Alone in a snowy field,
Branches plead,
Moans lost in the wind
while flurries dance,
Heavy with fruit long since spoiled,
Mutinous apples cling,
Their coppery smirks
defy Persephone's call to plunge,
They hold tight,
Swelled with spongy pride,
Winter's swirling display fuels rebellion,
Their snowy caps worn with aplomb,
Parisian pommes de neige
usurp nature's order,
Flexing branches like Diana's bow,
A heart-shaped shadow in the wood,
Threatening to break,
While robins bide their time.