Taking away the leaves and showiness, and the sun reflecting in a white glare off of the scales of her limbs, and what is a saskatoon? Just look at her palette, from rose to plum, or as close as a camera and photoshop can come. Of course, she is a rose, so rose colours are just right, but look what happens when she puts her leaves back on to eat the sun. They’re just that process. They are her blues stripped of red and drenched with yellow, so that they are green. You need that to eat the sun, yet out of her core comes fruit, and what is that fruit but her pink and purple blood blooming, oozing out, spilling into the world, for us to carry away and bring inside us.

The leaves and their yellow mysteries make what is winter’s bitter bark sweet, but at heart she is this rich blood spilling out.

I mean in the language of bodies and the world.