the oranges are good this year.


Pith

Now at last alone she meanders
To the orchard away from the bereftness.
Through the smattering of the rain
Without one single pain inside herself she goes...
Amongst the shining darkness of the
Trees leaves hang the orange orbs as ripe as
She is. Falling into her hands at a mere shudder.

All the hurt falls away as she knives a fruit open
To smell and see and taste a full sweetness...
The juice is her elixir that she drips into her mouth.
The orangeness warms her as the sun would...
Later at home, she will listen to many stories on the
Telephone as she sharpens her knife in readiness
To remove all the pith and the pips to reveal
Circles of sunshine on her plate.


Sometimes we must take the pith and the skin
To reach the inner beauty.










Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 388 times
Written on 2010-02-06 at 01:45

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i think you make a marvelous poet

cheers J
2010-02-06


Brian Oarr
Makes me kinda' wish I were an orange, though my pips are numerous and forget about the pith. A succulent write, Mdm Jenks.

Brian
2010-02-06