Sometimes the afternoon light
pours its balm into my soul
like the orange that yields its fragrant, sharp vitality:
tiny jewels that burst between my teeth
as joy flows down my throat.
I rise, refreshed, and gather up the peels,
inhaling their still-pungent savor.
With a sigh, I drink the fading scraps of light,
all that remains of the day.
Thanksgiving: a sonnet
17 hours ago