The Tiny Ship

A sea of bright lilac purple puff balls extend bravely from the life giving green of stems and leaves.
The light breeze plays with the flowers, sending them into a frenzy of purple waves.
I watch as the tiny puffs display themselves in temptation, the sun warming the senses as their perfume permeates the surrounding air.
It is as sweet as the flowers are delicate.
From the corner of my eye I spy a sail amongst the lilac waves – orange and black, intricately decorated.
In the sudden upsurge from an errant gust of wind, the tiny sail and its mass hang tenaciously to a flower puff.
As the wind escapes to disturb another unsuspecting bunch of flowers, the mist flowers regain their calm stance in the sunlight.
The little black boat with orange sail makes its way across a tiny wave, its movements fluid and methodical.
It anchors itself to the poof of purple, diving into the flower for hidden treasure within its depths.
It pays no notice of me.
Only my heart and breath move in rhythm; all else is still, mesmerized by its movements.
All is beautiful in this brief moment of time.
Suddenly, a furious burst of air sweeps my hair from my shoulders, disturbing the tiny boat's search for sustenance.
The sail opens and two orange and black wings catch the angry wind, lifting the creature into the blue sky above.
I follow his flight to another patch of flowers, another sea of flowing color.