Thursday, August 29, 2013

Spring, Unwinding



The flowers clicked gently in the breeze.  Intrigued, I plucked one. 

The stem was oddly stiff, and it broke with a metallic ping.  Inside, it was hollow, a tube with a long, thin cam shaft running down it.  The petals, blunt and angular, gleamed copper-bright and polished.

I looked up from my prize.  The blossoms were opening as the sun rose.  They meshed, gear linking to gear through the flower bed.  The clicking became a rattle, then a hum.  A rumble echoed haltingly from deep underground.

It’s March now.  The flowers are still sprouting.  The machine is not finished.

Yet.

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