Oranges

Scattered peelings in the grass
by the chalk sidelines, like leaves,
wilting in the sun.
The spicy sweet aroma filled the air
around us and a dozen giggling faces and hands
were sticky from the juices.
The sun always beat down on us,
but that didn’t matter.
We were tired and now was the time,
to rest. The oranges helped.
They made it better somehow.
Sometimes they were cut into fourths,
but usually they were smaller.
They were warm because they too
had been out in the sun for a while.
We usually lost the game, but that too didn’t matter.
We enjoyed playing soccer and
we all loved the oranges.

© Michele (Guard) Markley 1998