Winter Fruit

It’s too soon to tell if the Navels will bite sweet, but my eyes—catching sight of the orange orbs on the trees—are naive.

The scent of citrus, in the Fall, is a time machine. Bright, floral notes gather in clouds that I breathe,

transporting me back to the sound of the starry-shaped blossoms—abuzz with the spring and the hum of the bees—

to when Anthony’s fingers gave mine a slight, infant squeeze (as we) meandered the rows of the orchard.

Now, I swear I can taste my own little dream—moving forward, getting closer to me—like the promise of winter fruit, sweet, in the soft glow of Autumn.

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-Gina C. 🧚🏻‍♀️✨