//Let’s Pick More Oranges//
Truly then the days folded into themselves like the pages of
Rain stained leather books withering at the edges
Revealing neither end nor beginning
And the passage of time no longer relied upon the Gregorian methods but rather
small instances helped divide the moments into some semblance of order such as:
The day I picked oranges with the neighbor
The day the thistle pricked your barefeet
The night the moon showed me your hidden freckles
The morning when ocean refused to reflect the sunlight on her surface
The afternoon under the pine trees
The time we stood in line but forgot we were in a line
The night in the dream in the day
The steady lapping of water against rocky shoreline
Waves keeping time like a metronome
A salty promise
Equinox sun like a suggestion
A burning need
The blooming of a garden flower
The minutiae, the mint blossom
The moment when we ran out of oranges and thought
Let’s return to the forest
Let’s hide in plain sight
Let’s pick more oranges