My brother, sister, and I sat between those gigantic wind chimes—
longer than our bodies and just as wide.

Two hung proud and regal,
copper-toned at the entrance above our neighbor’s porch steps.

Joe came outside to see us,
our curiosity about him endless.
He fought fires, wore a uniform.

He asked if we’d ever had a mandarin orange.
No, we shook our heads.

He’d caught us eating plums from his tree,
but instead of scolding, he gifted us more fruit.

He peeled the skins from our tiny oranges
and handed them over.
We marveled at their perfect fit in our paws.
The juice was sweet—deeper than expected.
We ate, wide-eyed with good fortune.

He let out the dogs,
and we watched them run the length of his property.

When we finished,
we went home with his blessing—
free to eat from his tree whenever we liked.

Now I know he really saw us,
that we were hungry.
He helped as he could,
without imposing.

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