Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Orange Juice

Every morning, one tall class of silky smooth

revitalizing heaven. Poured from the center of the

fruit from which it was born. The pulp plucked from

the mixing basin and thrown carelessly into the trash.

Oranges, straight from the sunny soaked fields of

Southern Florida, are picked by the farmer, in his dirt ridden

jeans and baseball cap, splitting at the seams. Flown in a plane,

or driven in a big truck, cruising the east coast. Passing cow

pastures and windmills preoccupied with saving the planet.

A deadly affliction of the earth, soaking up the sun much

like the fields of Florida. Never letting its deep rays of

anguish escape back into the atmosphere. The world

has grown hot, scalding. The great ice mountains

of Alaska have become mere puddles of cold water,

pushing ever so slowly to the brink of evaporation. A

tear falls as every drop descends into the muddy ground.


-Rachel

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