cannot comprehend, but that we keep trying...
The Gift
The day my mother dropped a net
of oranges on the kitchen table
and the net broke and oranges
rolled and we snatched them,
my brother and I,
peeled back the skin and bit deep
to make the juice explode with our laughter,
and my father spun one orange in his palm
and said quietly, "This was Christmas, 1938,"
said it without bitterness or anger,
just observing his life
from far away, this tiny world
cupped in one palm,
I learned I had no way
to comprehend an orange.
by SEAN LAUSE
Happy Thursday in December.
May you find your joy
in the day.
Peace.
1 comment:
I love the poem, as I think I told you. what I would love even more is another post from my amazing writer of a sister. come on, please, i love hearing the adventures of mom, dad and cutter unfold via your fingers. Love you
cole
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