i am no mary oliver

i can't differentiate between trees.

i am no mary oliver,

i can’t differentiate between trees, 

except for orange

because a friend once sent me pictures—ten to be exact—

here, they said, you said you liked these.

i am not trying to bring in here the theory of the orange peel,

just how i am not trying to defy grammar to rhyme peel with here,

i blame you, friend, 

for giving me a poetic license.

but back to the point:

my friend has already passed—as friends often do,

it was less of a test, more of a lesson;

here, someone can love you like this,

here, you can love someone like this,

but family—family is more complex.

i won’t be writing about them today.

because i am no mary oliver,

i see no reason to say.

but i will add this:

when my cousin went to a dam,

far far away,

she brought me oranges,

and i’ll never forget their taste.

i will not explain it to you,

i am not your cousin.

but now she calls me a waste, a burden, 

because i am unemployed,

because i am not trying to bring my family a new life.

but now i love oranges,

i see them in a new light,

and that, folks, is family,

and that is a new life.

but i am no mary oliver,

you don’t have to listen to me.

i can’t name birds or translate their melodies.

but i can tell you about my friend 

who once saw an orange tree.

and the one who has it in her backyard—

it’s actually not an orange tree—

but that’s just how i remember it,

because that’s who she is to me.

because i am no mary oliver,

and can’t differentiate between.

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what it was

📸: mr hoshino

how i remember it

📸: hamda

my wallpaper after eating those oranges

art by: haranikala

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the orange by wendy cope

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.

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jack edwards’ keychain

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in painting

Still Life with Basket and Six Oranges, 1887. Vincent Van Gogh.

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in sound

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tell me, reader, who’s the orange tree of your life?

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edit: jack edwards noticed this post!