Eating the fresh honey crispy
from the orchard
almost forget how pretty
those petals of apple flowers were in spring

White peaches too
for those lines of poems
dedicated to peach blossoms
the romantic incense
had puffed into juicy splendors

Nothing fancier though after the autumn
The longing for colors
will have to settle with the winter pale
The juicy dreams come from southern lands
where four seasons are long simplified to spring only
and people worships snow