Cool crisp cucumber wind,
Drifting children are drawn to the scent of refreshing refuge from the fall,
Down the cucumber mall,
Clean sweet slices of rejoicing silence,
Familiar, even to those who crawl,
Among fields of rice, one cucumber farm persists.
One place for the abandoned to be re-found,
One quiet man sprinkles seeds abound.

Muddy waters filter clean through the thick green cucumber skin.

Quiet mouths, peaceful minds, grow healthy cucumber rinds,
Delicate hands, happy hearts pull juice from the sand, filling the cucumber core.

Beyond the mountain, along the shore, the steamy fog sweeps in over-night,
Rejuvenating any memories lost or semblance of spite,
Tossing away any worries to a blur.

The only cure for a burdened soul, where a pure cucumber is all you own.
The earth owns your life, in return, you sown its land with cucumber for all.

Once lost, now among the same,
pulled from the earth in early spring to reclaim, the crystals of the soil,
cucumber queen and cucumber king.