But why are you here?
Glowing in the town-lit darkness
far from your green-growing sisters.
a grubby, child-fisted gift?
But who would drop that?
Perhaps you were
a token of unwanted love
one among many
discarded for your imperfections.
a young girl plucked you
petals brushed against her cheek
yellow fastened in her hair
til distraction tossed you aside.
I don’t know
why you were left
in a Starbucks parking lot.
But for me
you are unexpected
“Look what I have!” She showed me the small orange ball. “Can you open it?”
I ‘opened it’. She stood on the steps of the school porch and I sat next to her, so our faces were on a level. She ate sticky, citrus-scented sections and we talked about the things we could see.
“Do you want this?” She held out half of her orange.
I did want it. I like oranges and it smelled delightful. But I hesitated.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She was sure. She gave it to me, and together we ate our halves.
Later, when I was gathering my things, she asked me what did I have? Oh, I had a half-empty bag of crackers. I showed it to her.
“Can I have it?” she asked.
I paused. But really, why not? I was going home and I wouldn’t starve without these few crackers.
She accepted them easily and she was munching on them when I left a few minutes later.
A little thing, these exchanges. Small amounts of food, gone in minutes; probably forgotten by her almost as soon. But she left me fascinated, this black-eyed angel-child who gave and took with equal freedom. Why is it so hard for me to do the same?