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!
An Armchair Perfectionist 