ORANGE THOUGHTS

The first time I realized that the world was changing
was when my mother brought home
some frozen orange juice —
concentrated.
What a deal!
One small frozen tube
mixed with three times as much water
made a pitcher of juice!

I haven’t squeezed oranges
since our neighbor’s kids
sold us some to benefit a school project.
They’d bring them over
and we’d get out the electric juicer
and have a great time
squeezing and spattering and drinking.

My cousin goes in his back yard
and picks his oranges.
Here in Tennessee we favor cartons
from LOTS OF PULP to NO PULP.
But you’ve got to shake it up.

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply