Flower in my hand

A flower in my hand,
is like a fallow land.
When the bees pollinate,
for a new-born they celebrate.

After a month or few,
a fruit grows new.
Hanging on the branch,
waiting for the wind's avalanche.

From unique to strange,
they have a very wide range.
From having a sword on top to a crown,
they range from yellow to brown.

Plucking them to eat,
is a very sweet treat.
Inside it is a seed,
throwing or sowing them is a good deed.