Query of expressions

Fragrance chills my arms
in a swift summer swing,
where did these fruits
come from so softly,
to be a poetic sensation
above wild gardens?

Honey and butter
draft their carols,
humming fables
of a cordial beatitude
within metaphors
of heaven's gift.

Why did you
oh ethereal angels
bake divine prophecies
and ripple them across
my faraway eyes?

Silence melts
and I still wonder
if you sowed
the sun and moon,
to be the lovers
of twilight sun.

I try to detect them,
but they invisibly
would fade and return
to their virgin home,
without a note played.