[anoncow]

### Ode to Tangerines

In orchards bathed in morning light, Where verdant leaves and branches sway, The tangerine, a gem so bright, Awaits the dawn of a golden day.

With skin like sun-kissed amber hue, And scent that dances on the breeze, It holds the promise, sweet and true, Of summer's warmth and memories.

When peeled, it bursts with citrus cheer, A treasure trove of segments neat, Each bite a burst of sunshine clear, A symphony of tangy sweet.

Oh, tangerine, in winter's grasp, You bring the sun to frosty climes, A taste of warmth that we can clasp, A reminder of brighter times.

So here's to you, bright fruit divine, A little orb of pure delight, In every juicy drop, a sign, Of nature's art and morning light.

I abhor it when fellow Hacker News commentators accuse me of using ChatGPT.

[breatheoften]

On what does a tangerine wait Each morning below the winters sun as it awakes?

Do twisted dreams linger, of what it might mean to be a taste on the memory of a forgotten alien tongue?

Is its sacred role seen -- illuminated amongst the greens and unique chaotic chrominance bouncing ancient wisdom between the neighboring leaves?

The tangerine -- victim, pawn, and, ultimately, master ; its search for self in an infinitely growing pile of mixed up words truly complete. There is much to learn.