There's a hill near my home where wildflowers grow rampid. And as I ventured to the top the other day I was greeted with a hundred smiling faces of small dainty cankeroot flowers. Their white little petals reached out in a joyful embrace of the suns rays. They were happily dancing in the breeze, tickling my barefeet as I sat and watched the river below. It was beatiful, solumn, and filled with the upmost joy of little blooms.
