mandarin oranges wrapped in green paper
in a brown wooden bowl
on low table
I can’t indulge – too much fibre
A saxophone reverberates in a church
somewhere sometime
a little jazzy
a little eastern in style
this I hear through speakers in my living room
in a small prairie town
no cathedral here
just dirty, icy streets and
bare black trees
and a few boxy churches
the sax plays on gyrating with its own
echo echoing
oblivious to me
accompanied by voices
harmonizing heaven
just like a perfect round orange
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