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Bolly Picks a Flower
Bolly was walking, the trees exhaled morning dew, and he hadn’t a care. Sunlight shown his way — and then a glint. Like a spark. He had a potato, baked and buttered, a memento of a friendly meal, and taking a bite, he paused. The glint became a glimmer. The racket of birds, and more birds, had dulled his thoughts.
Something. What? He kicked the dirt. A coin? A coin. A gold coin.
He knew, and he did know — this could be trouble. He finished eating the potato, and wiping his hands on the seat of his pants — he kicked some dirt to cover the coin.
Take a nap, he decided. In those bushes over there.
A single gold coin on a road through the woods might be just that. Something told him, he knew better. Sleep came easy, the bushes were fragrant. Clethra?
There was a woman. He was attracted. Celestina, she said. Henry, said Bolly — not Hank, but Hal if you wish. Harry, she asked? He gave her a golden coin. Hal, she smiled.
A dog barked — more than one. Horses. Riders coming. Keep still. They passed swiftly by, from the direction he had come.
There was a lingering fragrance. Summersweet..?
Bolly continued going, careless of where, just the way he’d been going. Forgetting the coin, he fixed a flower on the unusual brim of his unusual hat.
Celestina, fading with every step.
Celestina, lost in a dream.
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CLETHRA “Summer sweet and spicy is the pleasant fragrance of this pollinator magnet that naturalizes readily in shady, damp places as well as coastal landscapes.“
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