There’s something magical about this fruit.
For whenever I peel an orange, I think of
My mother used to tell me stories
Of how my grandfather would put oranges
In their stockings.
It became a tradition
To have oranges at Christmas.
Now, when I eat an orange it takes me back –
To my mother’s knee
Sitting and watching her peel an orange
Inhaling the sweet scent
With Christmas lights in my peripheral view.
Listening to Glen Miller,
My grandfather’s favorite.
It takes me back –
To a pair of beautiful blue eyes,
Smiling down at me
As my mother watched
The juice of an orange
Kissing down my chin.
Kristian L. Weigman