There lies an orchard of epiphany trees,

All beholding fruit, gems to the eye,

Apples, oranges, pears, and more.

Searching through the endless rows of leaves,

One will surely come across a ripe yield; a golden fruit,

Shining, shimmering under a glorious light,

And with one bite, you can close your eyes and linger in its wonder.

Of course, there are seasons;

Growth, harvest, drought, and death.

While most don’t try their hand in bleak winter,

I went out in the frosty mist with a straw basket,

In search of golden fruit.

Try as I might, 

I could not find a single speck of sparkle against the fierce winds,

And so I almost left when my foot slipped on a drab apple.

With nothing else to carry, I trudged back with it, my heart heavy with doubt. 

Surely, the apple will taste rotten, I thought.

But when I set it on the table, cut a slice, and took a bite,

My heart could only flutter with awe,

Why the skin was so speckled and dull,

Who would have thought it was just as wonderful as

The golden fruits of the epiphany trees?

Perhaps there was no such thing as a golden fruit,

All that hung in the orchard was golden and worthy.

There was no need to search for one,

For the best ones were hanging under my nose, after all.