Orange Groves Poem by Norm Rourke

Sandy roads snaked through orange groves
before the highway took the land,
Small communities of pickers and workers
lived in cracker box houses with families.

Tourists never came down these roads
but stayed on the Big Highway that
bordered the groves on their way to Miami.
The sandy roads to Sanford were shorter
and there were no cars going to Miami.

It was dark in the groves,
No light could be seen except
a few lamps in the cracker box houses.
Dim headlights reflected off
ripe oranges that hadn't been picked.
Sometimes trees were so close
you could reach out and pick an orange.
Tourists would stop along the Big Highway
and fill sacks with oranges
before pickers could get to them.

The orange groves are almost gone,
An interstate cuts through them
like a scythe slashing grass.
Disney World has most of the land
where tourists go to 'See Florida! '
The Big Highway was torn up
and no more tourists steal oranges
on their way to Miami.