There was a little bright red flower by the side of the road. Its petals quivered gently in the dusty wind. Its stalk bent delicately when the gentle breeze blew. And then the huge trailer’s wheels went over the embankment crushing the green green grass…turning it to mush. And when the trailer’s wheels passed, the flower still stood. It was a little flower of no particular consequence, no great pedigree. But it stood. Tall. Proud. Alive.
One small little hand with bleeding fingernails reached out and plucked the flower.
And tucked it behind a little ear.
-Anne V (republished from 29 April 2001)