“Arizona Backyard”
by Cindy
Walking across campus
I smell orange blossoms
and climb again orange trees from childhood.
I pick ripe fruit
and throw it to my sister.
The chickens stay away
hoping we won’t find their eggs.
Easter comes more than once year.
“Gather the eggs for breakfast, Girls,”
Mom shouts through the kitchen window.
I continue walking past the trees,
toward my car.
