No 1: CHLOE’S CITRUS POEM

PHOTO BY LUCIA AUERBACH

MIA FOSTER

Painted signs contrast with emptied trees

“Citrus,” they scream 

In the face of hills filled with a reminder of what once was 

And what will be again 

But never quite the same 

Citrus skeletons 

blackened branches 

Barren of leaves 

Robbed of fruits 

The skeletal remains of harvest season

awaiting annual blossoms 

with silent patience

beyond what I could imagine or emulate 

The bones of these trees

Burgeons desire for the sour sweetness of an orange 

Or the unmistakable yellow of a meyer lemon 

And the perfect california valencia orange 

Instead all we see are the arms and fingers of the trees 

Empty 

Waiting 

Wishing 

For the new season to arrive