I grow from a trunk but I’m not the body. I split and spread, reaching for the sky. What am I?

I start as a seed and grow on a vine, autumn is my time to shine. Inside a crust I'm spicy and sweet. On your porch, your visitors I greet.

The fourth element I’m in blood, milk, space And television magic.

i appear after tears of sky when sun and rain both pass me by i wear many colors yet have no thread i arc above where clouds once spread you cannot touch me though i seem near what am i that fades yet brings cheer

Masters of the sweet dance, clad in yellow-black robes, they craft golden nectar while humming a symphony of the sunlit meadows.