Cobwebs drape their skeins in the sun,
While the sun spreads through my body.
With the fruit heavy, tilting at noon,
Will you come set me free?

I'll lay the road in banners of silk,
Commanding a spring to bring us refreshment.
I'll stop the witch on the trail in her tracks,
Though my branches drag from the sun's weight.

0 the weight of golden apples!
Clouds dam up, back of the blue forests.
With the fruits scorching like beady suns,
Will you still come?