Seasons PreservedLast winter I lay down under an apricot tree, the frosted earth wrapping me in a blanket of dead leaves and neglected fruit.In spring, before beetles and worms consumed me, roots encircled my remains and drew me up through trunk, branch, twig and blossom.By late summer I had become flesh, juice and stone. A frail hand picked me and carried me in a basket to a small kitchen in a small house. I was boiled with sugar and lemon, sealed in a glass jar and hidden in a dark, cool corner to sleep. At autumn's end, I awoke as a hand placed my jar in a warm square of sun on a worn oak table. Through the glass I watched an old woman spoon me onto whole wheat toast and eat me between sips of warm chamomile tea.
DNA AppliedUntwist your Fateand with minecombineto createour own small god