the stray

the orange, a stray
having rolled out from the bag,
cornered on a shelf,
cold from a week alone
with no one to talk to.
no lettuce, no grape,
no stalks of corn still sealed
in their green jackets.
how easy it is to peel
this soft orange,
to take it away from
its seclusion, tasting
its sweet juices, despite
being older, still
relevant and giving,
not unlike ourselves.