Sere land which lay ahead
With mayhem of colours
Apart from the cactus
And scorching sun.

Phlegmatic sea and stolid waves
Sometimes perturbed by tides,
Love of the sea wind towards gulls
They embrace like never before.

Ensuing days of being a flower bee
There was no rancour in the seeds,
Just peal of bird at my garden
And some forlorn thoughts.

The day apple lacked
Bough of blossoms made
Hopping wind grumbling all the way,
With succulent embers and hue.

The season of pineapples,
Vagrant sunbirds of summer solstice
I loved as though they were sick.
But complained about the roses.

When wind was taciturn and delirious
Stifling pillows of darkness,
Moon waned a long time ago
Blithering chaos all over the woods.