If you have an orange,
Yes, I mean the ordinary ripe orange
Peel it or not
But cut it across the top or bottom
You`ll see its wondrous compartments on display
They`re always there
Equal, somehow
And symmetrical
Eight, nine, ten, eleven or twelve
I always count them
But just how many they are
Before you find them
Remains a mystery
Why does the number change
Yet the difference doesn`t depend on the size
It`s beyond us
Yet the one above
Knows the secret
He knows it all
Even before they come into being
In fact he designs them that way
What an exquisite piece of job!
He`s at work
While we`re asleep!
Isn`t that marvelous?
How shall we ever repay him?
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