as finger cuts through rind
transports me to tropical breezes
and gnarled old trees sporting fruit
where i sat and did my homework
at the backyard picnic table.
every slice carries
the refreshing and familiar
scent called knowing and being
known, no coverings, no questions
of the flavor waiting for discovery
under a sunny yellow rind.
peel and taste if you
will, but share with me and i'll
share with you until the peels are
gone and only the scent of orange
lingers, and the gnarled trees
are no longer only mine.
4 comments:
One can almost smell citrus in the air as this is read - good one. Every year the Spice and I buy several boxes of oranges that the high school band sells as a fundraiser. My job as a husband is to keep my lady supplied with cut up orange pieces until the fruit runs out or ruins. This is not a test of love but it does make her very happy and I like to do that in any way I can. :) ec
your comment put a smile on my face! the detail of cut up oranges from band fundraisers is a wonderful story.
as always...love your poetry
I also love your new picture!
thanks! the pic is from last spring, but it seems appropriate for this stage of life!
Hugz!
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