“Wake up everyone! She is finally blooming,” the old Rose bush shouted.
The Lilacs leaned over to examine the bud they had all watched for so long. It was a new species and one they had never seen before.
“I tell you it is just a weed. Blew in off the southern breeze and now we have to share our garden with it,” the Dandelions roared in disgust.
A hanging Wisteria whacked the back of one of the Dandelions, silencing it, and forcing a light dusting of spores to break free.
One by one, small green triangles gently peeled away exposing a white core with purple frosted tips.
Morning dew steamed gently under the rising sun as the first light poured into the garden.
All were silent.
Suddenly, the Rose bush seized, popping off all her thorns. The Lilacs withered down to nearly nothing, desperate to be forgotten. The Dandelions exploded seeking refuge along any willing wind current.
The Wisteria, she recoiled up into her high perch and watched.
She watched the carnage and the reckless mayhem.
The Deer grunted and crushed the young sojourning flower between its flat teeth.
Once there was a flower that was supposed to be, but never was. That flower drifted into a Garden that was to be home, but never was.
Danny Machal September 20th, 2015