Her tiny yellowish buds grow into finely toothed leaflets that shade the earth during long hot summers. In August she yearns for a drink. The harvest will be bountiful if the universe hears her plea. Incubated in the care of nature, clustered in two to ten individuals, her fruit awaits maturity. The heat abates.
Earth breathes a deep, cleansing breath.
Fleshy shuck that held her babies splits into four regular seams, releasing her fruit to the ground. It is harvest time. The universe celebrates. Nights grow longer. Her leaves turn yellow and drop to the ground.