The Orange Tree and the Cactus


I had to take a picture to see it.
To see the way they leaned towards each other,
one forested on the top with green spikes
and the other gracefully holding gold.

Oh, I know you are wondering
what I am seeing with that eye,
that circle which captures a moment
and holds it like precious truth.

I was wandering in the back yard
with my digital camera.
I saw the pond and trellis,
then a sunflower laying across the grass,
its body fallen wet and weathered,
but when I clicked
I captured the orange tree,
part of California’s gold.

It was when I looked later
at the photo still and lifeless
in the cool afternoon of my room,
that I noticed the cactus,
another side of California.
With dust and drained perseverance
it had become pulling thrusting exuberance.

They seemed so tenderly mated,
not touching or seeking favor,
just old friends in the yard.
In the grace of their co-existence
I thought about people
of mold so different,
colored by time and place.

We don’t always see who stands beside us
in equal dignity.
We see only the gold
and seek those who are the same.
In an orange grove we file
in a line that excludes the beguiling ways
of vine or pussy willow.

I have learned a lesson in love today
with my camera’s eye,
from two old friends in the back yard,
the orange tree and the cactus.
___________

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