honeycrisp

Apple Diaries

by Verse A. Phile

The day, 27th, of bristling fall when many a soft skin break away to reveal eruptingly ripe interiors.

Had a Honey Crisp selection today; such tastes as the moniker implies. Made my way along the zig-zaggy currents of the modern cityscape, i.e., Midwestern American as opposed to Central European (huz-zah!), so, that for detailed expositions, my readers shall none lack. To the market was my making, taking a route rather familiar to my being, alongside the motorcades’ winged insects and the generosities of youth.

Spoke market heathen to mine:
“Forsooth you fine gentlemanly this day yonder?”

And to thine my reply:
“Eloquate not mine ears with thine barbarous tongue! For heaven’s sake — mine well-spent time was not meant to be taken to lunch by such clumbersome words of working-class teeth!”

Said he:
“You choose not to transact the fruit of my labors?”

And me:
“Fool! Privy to bite your slovenly words! I am indeed here for your Crisps of Golden lore!”

“Aye, one dollar for such.”

“Take, along with my disgust!”

Post-haste, I raise soft scarlet roundness to mouth. Aghast! A quick, tender crunch belies a sustained sweetness. Would that this fruit swell to melon size, such was its blessed divinations on my oral taste-formers. Arms raised, eyes rolling up into skull, I spin round! round! round! the cobblestone path of my surroundings, up! up! up! the far-crying zones of applicious bliss.

Such were a tale that even famed Snow White or the Lady Eve would re-double her apple actions, even after knowing their fixed punishments, were it to be a Honey Crisp experience.

Bring forth the apple wagons and toss the crab apples aside! Of apple surveys, we have a clear victor! Hurrah to the Crisps! The Golden Honey Crisps!

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