Carrots

They lay in the plastic,
Helter skelter,
Destined for consumption,
Blurred in containment.

I open the packet,
It stretches and gives,
A jagged tear gapes at me,
And a baby root beckons me.

Its moist body,
Chills my lips,
As it juts,
From their pursed bouquet,
Like an orange cigarillo.

With a dry crack,
The stem is snapped,
Severed beneath the pressure,
Of my dutiful jaws.

Sweet crunching bits,
Rotate about my mouth,
Rhythmically churning,
Like snowflakes in season.

They disappear en masse,
Sinking into my gullet,
To be melted down,
An automatic reflex.

Such nutritions,
Are released,
Dormant,
In the womb,
When nature's goods are compressed!