He gets himself out of bed by saying
‘Today I am not myself’
He walks through the wet city
Not seeing the city,
Seeing the orange grove,
A glass of iced lemon tea in his hand
Someone asks him a question;
He hears.
- ‘Can we pick what we like?’
- ‘As long as it is ripe & bright
And for the plucking’
- ‘Where would you suggest?’
- ‘There, see how the sun seems
To the favour the spot? That is not the light
But the flesh of brighter oranges
And the brighter the rind
The better the taste’
He walks through the grove
Back to where he started from
He lays his head and thinks
‘Yes, today I was myself’
