A walk among the orange trees

I hike higher up this trail. Unlike trails I'm used to, this ones destination-layed with slabs of stone. I follow the orange trees. The orange blossoms in full bloom. Leaves next to me are applauding. I see the oranges on the ground lying, decaying. The live ones in the trees sparkling. And those few in fantastic wonderland, the ones still about their perches, are the ones the leaves applaud. I wonder if the birds up ahead sing their song to warn me that the fruit is theirs or maybe they're saying "you're welcome to have a cup of juice". And they lay home in shacks about me as I walk along this dirty-leafed path.

The sun is glaring on the oranges and they are letting out their song. Green trees, green trunks, orange fruit, and the butterfly flies by. As I walk down the steps.

There is an abandoned house. I ventured into it. Find it eerie. The walls were cracked. The mirror was hanging unsteady against the soiled wall and I swear I could see a ghost, or at least a spirit.


The butterfly flies by.

I saw things in drawers and cubbies, rotting and sour, once belonging to someone.

The butterfly flies by.

The path, the path I just took was absolutely gorgeous. Like a picture book. Everything glows. Shrines and incense...strong visuals, strong smell, smoked-up library scent. Moss growing on large rocks.

This pathway is built for people willing to walk the road that has been walked before. Tree roots interlaced with stone carved by man. The magic is sort of taken away but the orange trees offer their brightness along the path.