There’s a kind of orange all over the island right now.
On doorsteps and on porches, in flelds and in pies, on fences and on tables, in lattes and in soup
from trees on to sidewalks.
Everything is orange and orange is everywhere.
October is a very orange month.
It’s orangeness creeps along the grass and climbs the trees, it slithers down the mountains and shines across the water like a flashlight.
Surrounded by orange
engulfed by ochre.
I was going to write a poem,
but nothing rhymes with orange.