Poem of the Month ~ December 2009
What tender memory is evoked by this poem that can warm you during December’s cold nights?

Oranges

The first time I walked
With a girl, I was twelve,
Cold, and weighted down
With two oranges in my jacket.
December. Frost cracking
Beneath my steps, my breath
Before me, then gone,
As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose
Porch light burned yellow
Night and day, in any weather.
A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling
At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled,
Touched her shoulder, and led
Her down the street, across
A used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees,
Until we were breathing
Before a drugstore. We
Entered, the tiny bell
Bringing a saleslady
Down a narrow aisle of goods.
I turned to the candies
Tiered like bleachers,
And asked what she wanted -
Light in her eyes, a smile
Starting at the corners                                                          

Of her mouth. I fingered                                                      
A nickle in my pocket,                                                          
And when she lifted a chocolate                                         
That cost a dime,                                                                   
I didn't say anything.                                                            
I took the nickle from                                                            
My pocket, then an orange,                                                 
And set them quietly on                                                       
The counter. When I looked up,                                         
The lady's eyes met mine,                                                     

And held them, knowing                                                      

Very well what it was all                                                     

About.                                                                                                

Outside,

Fog hanging like old

Coats between the trees.

I took my girl’s hand

In mine for two blocks,

Then released it to let

Her unwrap the chocolate.

I peeled my orange

That was so bring against

The gray of December

That, from some distance,

Someone might have thought

I was making a fire in my hands.