Warm sunshine – but what other kind was there? – spilled over the smiling flowers, petal-trimmed faces waving in a gentle breeze. A tiny caterpillar nodded back; she had always thought flowers were the most polite creatures. Other insects scoffed at her opinion. Too young, too naive, they said. But she knew better.
She may have just come out of her egg, but she knew flowers. Somehow. Knew them like the tasty crunch of maple leaves and the delicious golden sunshine. How could anysect not know?
Written: 19 June 2016
Inspired: a song