Orange Tree

I savored this morning
At the breakfast table,
Gazing out the window
On an unusually cold
Southern California winter’s
Day,
The last orange.

I picked it from the ground
After we took down the 
Dying orange tree, which,
Once sawn open, revealed
A hollowed trunk, the heart
Wood long rotten 
Away.

‘Tis a wonder that such a 
Tree,  more a shrub,
Could produce any fruit,
Although it was mostly
Rind, lacking much meat 
Or juice, but still
Sweet.  A wonder proving
Nature’s wonder that such a
Shrub would still seek
To seed. 

Next to our garage for the
Decades during which
We inhabited this 
Place, that neighbor has 
Been removed.

And I sat at the breakfast 
Table, gazing out the window
At the empty spot, 
Eating the last orange and
Thanking the tree for the
Shade and flowers and fruit, which
Nature’s bounty and nature’s
God so long shared with me. 

Good bye sweet orange tree:
From my icebox
Your fruit was so sweet and 
So cold.