It was just a simple flower on the side of the road. But the more I looked at it, it appeared to have a summer's worth of tales written on it. Close encounters with bees, wasps, butterflies and who know what. Maybe even some swashbuckling over who would get the first sip of nectar. Not that it was ever part of the brawl. It just provided the ring so that it could have a front row seat to a summer of feasting. On the side, it was a ancient mating ritual for the flower -- one it never revealed to its nectar-toting stinger-swingers. They flew away with the nectar of the gods. The flower's dream had just begun.
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