Winter’s Fruit

Words by Ally Moulis & Art by Chloe Farrington

 

The sky was navy when it snowed

A rush of swirling white,

The girl was sleeping quietly

In a bed with blankets tight.

 

Her window left a crack ajar

Let in an icy breeze,

It slithered over sill and ledge;

Trespasser through the trees.

 

A snowflake small and steady

Floated through the open slit,

And danced into her dreaming mouth

Her cheeks and bones moonlit.

 

Down her throat it flew until

It reached her inner caves of red

And there it lodged its body;

Drop of cold in fleshy bed.

 

In the morning when she woke

An icicle had grown,

Within her lung was stalactite;

If only she had known!

 

Feeling nothing but a gentle pain

She plucked from bowl and stalk

A cherry sweet and plump and ripe;

Sucked between her jaw.

 

The season changed and spring began

Its splendid warm descent

Upon the timber house wherein

The girl lay quite content.

 

And as the melting sword of ice

Dripped like a metronome

It watered the last cherry seed

Swallowed, stuck and sewn.

 

As months passed by the girl soon found

That from her head had grown

A cherry tree with branches

And leaves of its very own.

 

Unalarmed and unperturbed

She stood among her sister trees

And plucked from her own arms

Sweet fruit and spat the seeds.