there are many shades of orange there are many shapes of orange there are many types of orange there are many flavours of orange every day is an orange day the routine is largely the same my wife, who is always up before me puts out the half blood pressure tablet and magnesium for the terrible cramps maybe she worries I won't remember and she will suffer once again for my negligence it is the half tablet I cling to that half tablet as a perverse talisman of health ho ho only half I guffaw and say plenty of life in the old dog yet I hope but don't pray I grind to mill groats while the kettle goes on for 80 degrees of green tea to be taken from a thin light porcelain cup well, mug really beautifully decorated delightful indigenous flora always a pleasure to see to raise to my lips ah the little things ..... there is skim milk to get from the fridge and sultanas come from the cupboard under the bench to add to the oated groats oats sultanas and water to add to the microwave 120 seconds then stir 120 seconds once again while oats and tea rearrange molecular speed and structure on my behalf I transfer everything else from kitchen to table I set up for reading news, photography, email, poetry whatever takes my fancy on a given day I look out the windows across garden and creek across craggy old swamp gums and wattles to hillside pasture and hilltop sky to sunshine or rain or fog or frost occasionally to snow and I say to myself, "Ah, there it is". then I walk back to the fridge transfer an orange from the bottom drawer to face cutting board and knife every day is an orange day but not all orange days are the same valencias available in the warmer months can be quite unreliable anything from sweet and juicy to horribly dry and pithy I top and tail slice smoothly into quarters or sixths depending on what I can get my mouth around evaluating the internal quality of the fruit giving rise to the first pleasure or disappointment of the coming day the navels of the cooler months are more consistent at their best oozing sticky zesty tart juice across the cutting board following skilful bladed removal of the sometimes uncannily human like navel bulk usually in promise of a very good breakfast finale I look forward to my orange start to every day Full of all the goodness orange juice alone will always leave behind full of the possibility of each new day some days have their disappointments to be relegated to the compost bin some days have their nuisances with more seeds and pith to deal with than is preferable most start sweet and juicy and stay sweet and juicy all day long strathbogie poetry #strathbogiepoetry
Today’s d’verse poetic prompt came from Kim. She introduced us / me to Imtiaz Dharker’s poem “How to cut a pomegranate”.I loved it! See the link below. The challenge was to think of a fruit, how it looks before and after it has been cut open, and how it tastes. Think about where and how it grows, and what it makes you think of. You may choose to write a poem in the style of Imtiaz Dharker, or you can explore the fruit in another way and in any form you wish. Whichever you choose, your poem should appeal to the senses.