Coconut

COCONUT Is it coconuts that I hear It’s maybe a sound effect Horse hooves clip-clopping Yet now just as half shells And not much hair is left Rubbed off over the years I know that condition well One of many proud seeds Falling down from the palm Rolling down to the ocean And then to float for miles To germinate and grow tall On another tropical island But it’s not this one, I fear Harvested and then stripped Leaving a brown hairy seed Drained for its sweet water Halved, to pick white flesh A tasty eat, and discarded But the half-shells collected For a long dramatic future