Picked from a tree
More than orange
Rough skin colored
To sunset hue

Packed away
Shipped away
Sitting in a heap
On a cold cold day
Plucked again

Carefully tucked away
Loving hands
Wrap sweet orange globes
In news
Careful careful not to bruise

Shipped to far away
Winter landscapes
Devoid of orange
Red, Yellow,
Green and purple

In the dark careful hands
Unpack this treasure
Amid ribbons and bows
Toys and ornaments
The orange glows

Smell deeply hot perfume
From another land
Feel ridged skin
Protecting honeysuckle sweetness

Carefully pushed
To the end of a stocking
Hung by a fireplace
Waiting for the night to pass
For small hands hand’s delight

Decades pass
We pause in the morning
When we hold
The orange
Pulled from the stocking

The story is told
The past is knit to present
We are there together
Licking sweet nectar
From our fingers


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