Meditation on Gratitude for an Orange Sam Nelson

Sam Nelson

The skin is tough and cannot be opened with my hands. I search my desk for a pen or a knife–

to rip, to tear, to peel away the flamboyant rhinoceros hide of this glowing orb of energy. My knife undoes

a hidden seam to reveal sticky beads of juice, and I touch them with my tongue to test

their sweetness. “I've had better.” I say to an orange that has scaled mountains

and crossed deserts to sit in my ungrateful hand.