Orange Blossoms
On a tree
Overcome by the scent of citrus
Sitting on a branch plucking fruit
With the rhythmic sound of grass below me
The wind blowing the grass like waves
Filling the air with musicality
The blossoms
Yellow and white
With the possibility to be greater than buds
Tightly closed but ready to open
Offshoots of the bigger, stronger branch
I have this quiet moment to myself
To admire nature at its finest
Chewing on honeysuckle
The blossoms are shaped like stars
Soft and round petals
But pointy,
Permeating through the casing they are trapped in
A star, that when pollinated, grows
Growing into the tangy fruit that we know
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