"In the garden, a single clover blooms beneath the apple tree. Do you see it? It talks."
"The apple says, 'I'm sweet, but I hide worms within.' The clover whispers, 'I'm green, but my roots are cold...'
"Do you dare pluck the apple from the tree, or tread softly among clovers?"
A chill runs through the mirrored surface, secrets whisper tales untold. We watch and wonder.
Follow the Maple Crow