Squeeze the
bright plump
mandarin
orange between your palms.
The sour syrup
drips from its skin
down the back
of your tan hands,
leaving you
sun soaked and sticky.
Suck the
nectar between your lips.
The refreshing
inhalation of sweet citrus
collapses your
senses into paralysis.
The greens,
yellows and reds
of the round, fresh unchosen fruits send envious stares
from their
basket sitting position.
The basket
balancing upon your arm swings
too and fro as
the pitter-patter pace of feet swiffen their steps.
Skip, skip,
skip over branches, rock and brick,
in search of
shade to shadow the blinding gaze
of summer
solstice heat.
