Edit 5: Homecoming

[alonso ramoran]

Homecoming 
 
Horse hooves kiss the mud, where 
spots of sunlight strewed like fallen fruits, 
ripe as the hanging mangoes that Abuelito 
picked and gave to me. 
 
His and other relatives' laughter lines 
remain unchanged as the course of rivers  
wrinkling the countryside with memories 
of our playful shrieks and water-splashing. 
 
Savory aromas call the province 
to a feast of roasted pig, fried plantains, 
that morning's catch, and Tia Yenia's 
buttery ojaldas, yielded from the land's 
enduring bounty; 
 
and beneath the metal roof, strung 
in fairy lights, my great grandparents  
dance the salsa to the booming music  
of my return. 

Edit 4: Homecoming

Horse hooves kiss the mud, where 
spots of sunlight strewed like fallen fruits, 
ripe as the hanging mangoes that Abuelito 
picked, peeled, bit, and gave to me. 
 
His and older relatives' laughter lines 
remain unchanged as the course of rivers,  
wrinkling the countryside, with memories 
of our playful shrieks and water-splashing. 
 
Savory aromas call the province 
to a feast of roasted pig, fried plantains, 
that morning's catch, and Tia Yenia's 
buttery ojaldas, yielded from the land's 
enduring bounty;
 
and beneath the metal roof, strung 
in fairy lights, my great grandparents 
dance the salsa to the booming music 
of my arrival. 


Edit 3: Homecoming

Horse hooves kiss the mud, where 
spots of sunlight lay like fallen fruits, ripe  
as the hanging mangoes that Abuelito 
picked, peeled, bit, and gave to me. 
 
His and older relatives' laughter lines 
remain unchanged as the course of rivers  
wrinkling the countryside, with memories 
of playful shrieks and splashing water. 
 
Savory aromas of roasted pig, 
that morning's catch, fried plantains,  
and Tia Yenia's buttery ojaldas, calls 
the province to a celebration; 
 
and in the constant yield of fruits, 
greens, meats, grain, and seafood, dance 
my great-grandparents to the salsa music 
of my arrival. 


Edit 2: Homecoming

Horse hooves kiss the mud, where 
scattered fruits of sunlight lay, ripe  
as the hanging mangoes that Abuelito 
picked, peeled, bit, and gave to me. 

His and older relatives' laughter lines 
remain unchanged, like the rivers flowing 
through country hills we'd swim in. 
 
Later on, savory aromas of roasted pig, 
that morning's catch, fried plantains,  
and Tia Yenia's buttery ojaldas, calls 
the province to a celebration; 
 
and in the year-round yield of fruits, 
greens, meats, grain, and seafood, dance 
my great-grandparents to the salsa music 
of my homecoming. 


Edit 1: Homecoming
 
Horse hooves kiss the sunlit mud; 
mangoes hung by straining stems, 
ripe as the day, as juicy treats to peel,
that made for sweetly sticky chins. 
 
I've returned to country hills  
of grazing cattle, that seem untouched  
as hourglass sand, of which I counted 
grain by fallen grain. 
 
Strips of sugar cane that Abuelito  
hewn behind his bungalow, tastes sweeter 
than recalled, while his and older relatives' 
smile lines remain unaged like  
something etched into a tree. 
 
Later on, they celebrate with seafood 
caught that morning, a roasted pig,  
and Tia Yenia's ojaldas; when sweet 
and savory is a year-round yield,  
it's no wonder how my great-grandparents  
can still dance to my homecoming's  
blaring salsa music, as if the day  
were always ripe.


Original: Always Welcomed
 
The day is ripe as mangoes 
drooping from their straining stems 
as juicy treats to slice or peel 
that made for sweetly sticky chins. 
 
Bone-white pits with yellow wisps 
were left in mud that horse hooves kissed.
The boy has returned and country hills  
of grazing cattle seem untouched 
as hourglass sand. 
 
Chewing strips of the sugar cane 
his Abuelito hewn behind the bungalow,  
it tastes sweeter than remembered, while 
smiles that tastes and vistas wrinkled 
local faces with, remain like monoliths. 
 
They celebrate tonight, with seafood 
caught that morning, a roasted pig, 
and his Tia Yenia's ojaldas; 
                        when sweet and savory 
is a year-round yield, it's no wonder why 
his great-grandparents can move their feet 
and hips to the blaring salsa music 
of his homecoming, as if the day  
were always ripe. 

Previous titles: The Foreign Prince (was not liking this one, Richard only verified my feelings towards it lol), Always Welcome, A Hearth Kept Warm
I'd love to hear some suggestions in ways to maybe trim and condense the piece, thanks for the read.