An apple a day keeps the doctor away
But oh, what the apple goes through
To bring the cure, it must endure
A most painful season ’tis true

Winter’s tree, stands stark and bare
Caressed by cold of night
Awakened by the brilliant glare
Of early morning light.

Spring buds take on rigid shape
Warm rains encourage growth
The bee sets out to pollinate
Advantageous to them both.

Summer sunlight bursts with flames
Giving apples the juices we savor
But the frosty spice of autumn ice
Perfects the fruits of its labor.

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