A Cloud of Oranges

It was the first time they had seen such a thing
Orange trees, mile after mile
As far as the hills allowed
Not a string bag in sight
No bundles in a hyper-market
Natures own on grand display

She walked up the steep winding road
She didn’t like hills, they tired her
In this heat too…
He called for her to hold back
He just had to do it, couldn’t resist

He scooted up a tree,
legs scrabbling, boughs bending
Right at the top - his prize
The highest orange, he plucked it
fell out of the tree in the process

Got it though, dimpled globe
Small twig attached
Two bright green leaves
He wished they were Emeralds
He ‘legged it’ up the hill
She hadn’t stopped, hadn’t heard him

The breeze that had snatched his words
also snatched his breath, as he laboured after her
Finally, he caught up, wheezing
She turned, saw his broad grin
He handed her the fruit with a flourish
She looked at him as if he was nuts
A ‘playing the silly bugger again’ look

On their next visit
The orchards were in bloom
The world turned into a cloud of orange blossom
They had walked for hours under the canopy
Felt like characters from Fantasia
They returned there often

Years later, many years later
On a black tie day
He entered the bedroom, bereft
Started to empty her bedside cabinet
His hand fell on something in the back of a drawer


A desiccated Orange, twig still attached
A pair of Emerald earrings clipped to the twig
He wished they were leaves
It was hard as a cricket ball, burnt umber with age
She’d gone on ahead, always getting to the pitch
while he was still picking the spin

He touched it to his cheek
Held it to his heart
Lay back on the soft bed
It brought her home to him
He closed his eyes, following
The room filled, with the scent of Neroli.

© 2005 Kahdoosch