Franco Littlelight I Walked in a Wood	back to table of contents back to main

I have never lamented pouring gasoline on an anthill and setting fire to it; nor have I stopped to think, every time I go to squish a spider. However, one day I was out for a walk and had come across a grove of cotton-wood trees growing on both banks of a small brook. While I walked through this grove, I accidentally stepped on a flower. It crushed as though it were an emptied half of an eggshell.

The various parts of the flower lay in an arbitrary pattern of triangles, even the stem would not rise off the ground; it drooped, seeming to mourn its fallen crown. The gargantuan trees seemed to gather closer to the stigma, style, ovary and petals that lay about, shivering from the wind. The plants, as well, congregated closer to the crushed flower. It was then that a small gust of wind blew through the tops of the trees, swishing them; and then it stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Leaves began to swirl around the patch where the flower had been crushed.

I have heard of plants that whisper to one another. I wondered what they would say, what they would wish. The various parts of the flower went into a kerchief, and I took them to a friend of mine. She had a book of pressed flowers, and placed into it the disarrayed pieces of the flower and organized them into a recognizable pattern and titled it "Amber".

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