There are no oranges right now.
I lied.
They’re there.
The lemons too.
And even the cactus fruit.
The persimmons are trying.
The grapefruit is not.
I smelled the guava, and that was enough.
I have a secret pomegranate tree.
Didn’t wanna be a secret anymore.
Hidden in plain sight.
It is rife with the fall colours.
As am I.
The sun is out.
Burning its memories into my lids.
Begging to make an instance into a permanence.
Arna and Cae are clawing to the surface.
Vivian is scared.
But, in her way, clawing.
I am clawing too.
I wanna bring this harvest in.
The sequel is calling.
But the first is first.
The deadline for the blessing is upon me.
Ripe.
But not for long.
Oranges
