Fruitful picking

I've been working on my poem "Oranges for Three Loves," and what started out the very simple seed of an idea has blossomed into something a bit over-grown. The plan is to present it in four parts, the first of which I finished the first draft of today. It will likely require some more pruning, but I think it's shaping up.

Oranges for Three Loves
By Francis Scudellari

I. Picked Night

To steal a-way: three oranges for love
he was instructed by cackling voices
over time become vague though sharply plucked
and sealed in wide-mouthed, boyish memory

So, this picked night, he stalks storybook rows
of stubby trees that squat stacked in a maze
pulled straight by tender hands to hide riddles --
a patchwork of endlessly seamed sameness

Aided by a sickle moon's pointed glance,
he hasty harvests three waxy-lit fruit;
The feather-leafed branch loosed, snapping skyward
As juicy hope drops neatly in his pouch