our orange tree

We planted 
replanted really 
our orange tree out back 
and watched it try to thrive 
for two years, season follows 
season. It had been going near 
grown already when we got it
- a further two years prior, that's 
young adult in orange time - just 
fresh post adolescent. Dug a 

several shovel's worth of dirt 
right where we stuck it in. 
We pushed all the dirt left 
back around to make a 
pitcher's mound effect. 

Happy Arbor Day, Charlie 
Brown (you said.) That (I
said) has the taste of a scraped 
barrel, but we couldn't stop 
smiling that day. 

We watered it of course, or God did. 

It did thrive, after its fashion, 
but its oranges. 

did not look like oranges. 
They looked and smelled  
and had the textured feel 
of our dreams. Yours and mine 

why we moved here, and 
how we keep waking up from them
every morning. It's like that tree 

is the only way they come true. 

Well the juice is sure funny. Or 
terrifying actually sometimes - strange 
to taste fresh squeezed punch-in-the
-mouth sweet and bright and alive 
orange juice, yet 

it's full of panic and gripping nightmare. 
I wish 
some of our dreams did not come true 
this way, but 
most of them taste beautiful 
and your skin shines 
and your eyes are bright 
and your hair is glossy 
and tonight, 

we'll make oranges