Spring Flowers Extreme

Spring Flowers Extreme

Tulips to tiptoe through

I hiked on a Sunday morning under the warming rays of the sun. The flowers danced with joyful glee as the Spring breeze blew through their pedals. I had been cooped up in the apartment thinking of the story I was writing. Terrell Henry Greene’s Prison Diaries. I had hit a log jam and needed time away from the computer to sort out the complicated web of Greene’s story. I looked down at the tulips sprouting upward and swaying in the breeze. “Forget the story,” they cried out. The brilliance of the colors hurt my eyes. I turned away, but when I looked back down, the entire flower bed had transformed itself into a phantasmagoria of colors and rich textures. The flower pedals gave off a radiance as elusive as sunlight on a rippling pond.

I blinked my eyes several times and shook my head. When I opened my eyes again, the flowers had returned to normal and my mind was cleared. I was ready to start on the story of Terrell Henry Greene.



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