Only Tonight ran far, far into the night. That was the only time she ran. The world was awake, then, awake – alive. It flowed, with the wind; she followed. She was a desert flower. That was what she was. She unfurled. Shed petals. Flowed.
She ran alone; most nights, she ran alone. She did not always run alone, only most nights. She had not been alone, a few nights past. She had danced with a firefly. Oh, what a firefly he had been. She still thought about him, that firefly. She might yet dance with him again. She did not always run, shed petals, flow. Sometimes she drew the water into her roots, kissed the flesh of the Swamp's sweet bounty. She was a flower. Sometimes she danced. She loved to dance. What a dance it had been.
Ah, that firefly! She thought of him still. She thought of him so, she felt she might bud.
But not this night. And then, there it was: a beautiful desert flower. She was not alone, not this night – a desert flower, like herself. It wasn't often she met another flower. It was delightful. A vibrant pink – a hardy one. One that didn't just bloom in darkness. A vibrant pink that outshone the sun all day. How delightful! She was overjoyed. Another flower! She was at peace.
It said, "Bless you."
She said, "Thank you."
A beautiful desert flower. How blessed.
*******
Red-stained Blossom watched the Acha doe prance away into the night.
"Weird one," she muttered.
END