Hues of pinks dusted the branches,
As the dusk melted into a moonless night,
Tiny buds unfurled their blossoms,
As the soil shimmered under the starlight
Moonshine sprinkled on the blooms,
As the enchantment weaved in flight.
The earth spun on its edge in joy,
As the apple blossoms glowed bright.
Like pearls, they blushed and twinkled,
As they demured under a touch so slight.
The sun shined brighter by the day
As honeyed petals glided featherlight.
Like moondrops on a carpet of green,
They never failed to arouse delight.
I lost track of the number of apple blossoms I saw during my Kashmir trip, each more enchanting than the next. An ode to the happiness!