Blood Orange

I sit with the sweet perfume of fresh flowers and a blood orange – A fortress of peel piled in the grass beside me. I can always count on nature to awaken my senses. I select each wedge methodically, carefully. I press on the gentle pulp with my teeth and juice spurts to life on my tongue. There is something about eating a fruit outdoors, that makes it taste much more exotic. Perhaps it is the satisfaction of returning the pits, the peels, the leaves to their rightful place on the ground to decompose – To know that you have restored the natural world with one more beautiful thing that belongs to it. It makes your bare feet feel extra bare. It makes the ants feel more like friends. It makes the grass feel extra soft. It makes the sun feel extra warm, and the evening breeze extra cool. The smell of citrus lingers cleanly on my fingers. I can feel the soft golden air between my toes before I push them into the dirt. I try to feel as weightless as possible, so that I won’t be a disturbance as I listen to the water whispering it's evening lullaby. Carry me away, sweet notes, as I stare at the darkening sky, the fermented flavor fluttering on my breath, mingling with the last drops of sun.