A single ribbon of sunlight threaded through the tangle of steel and concrete. Its tightly knit sparkle glanced off the small white bud nestled against a chilled red brick wall. Framed by the tall strands of rusted iron and trellis grating, the small flower shivered in the cold air, an errant breeze rippling through the space between the tenements. The dew from the morning moisture collected in its velvet folds, washing the soot from its pale ivory petals.

As the air started to stiffen with the sounds and smells of the city waking from its predatory slumber, the window off of the fire escape opened, letting a steamy draft into the apartment. A long limb spidered out from the ledge, clothed in faded twilight cotton, the knees worn thin against the bone. Her curled toes sought the flat of the ledge with pigeon tipped nails, chipping the paint as they scraped against the rough surface of the landing. Small grey flakes scattered into the wind, carry tiny sparks of opal greens into the wind to dance against the staunch brick landscape. A curtain of goose bumps veiled her leg as the small close cropped hairs above her ankle valiantly fought the cold and stood in defiance. The knob of bone sticking out of the curled up edges of the cut in her leggings shone china translucent in the pale morning light, the faint blush of blue webbed veins running back to hide under the black frayed cotton.

The girl that finally emerged from the brick shell stood pale and thin in the waxing light...a flesh echo of the bud trembling in the faint breeze. Her loose tank top looped low under her arms, the small mounds of her breasts white crescent moons rising from the pale horizon of her body. Shivering at the knife sharp wind carving her warmth from her, she controlled the chattering of her teeth as she picked her way across the rough grating to where the tiny bud lay sheltered against the brunt of the wind by a haphazard wind blind made of a cracked marinating Tupperware(tm) she stole from her mother's garage sale pile. The soft grey paint on her toes glistened in the light, warming the bud as it strained for the warmth of the sun.

Cradling the deep red glass of lukewarm water between her cupped hands, she leaned over the tiny frail plant, whispering encouragement as she slowly seeped the stream of liquid into its parched dirt. A hoarse shout from the darkened apartment made her jump, slopping a thick stream of water into the plant's container. The slightly dry compost floated above the torrent, small white specks of foam and fertilizer swimming against the frothy rapids pouring from the glass. The bud shook, aching to reach the brightness leaning above it, not caring if it were flesh or sunlight - anything to stave off the chill of the earth from embracing it. A quick feather touch against a single plump leaf as she poured the rest of the water into the pot and then she folded herself back into the apartment, folding the glass wall between them once more.

The water seeping into its soil brought a welcome relief to its roots, sending a small wave of passion through its stalk. As the rich nutrients blended into the water filled its pores, a surge of incandescent energy flooded its being and it pushed upward, unfolding its petals in the day long minute of a flower's time. As the sky slowly darkened and ripened with stars, the window lay shut against the world - wooden lips drawn taut against a scream - until in the dusky depths of midnight, its worn linens were pulled back and the girl creaked the glass and wooden square from its choke hold against the frame.

The bud sat there in the darkest of nights...its shadows brought not from the lack of light from above but rather the stench of the humanity that stumbled past the fire escape, small slices of flesh clothed in the filth of their souls. The girl smiled at the sight of the flower, fragile and blooming in the grime of her life. Sitting down besides it, she wrapped her skinned elbows about her knees.

Words fell from her mouth, drops of dew that cleansed her soul as the vaporous moisture washed the night grime from the plant every morning. Caught within the small pearls of her mind, worlds swam and people flourished - tall spires of glass and teak rose from the black craggy mountains set against a deepening purple sky of star pictures never seen by the reality anchored people walking below.

A flash of light changed the story from one of princesses to a journey of bards, each distinct in their own natures. The quick wit and white smile of a boy folded into the story as a young man sped past under them, his lanky boy wrapping around the stream of people - an otter at play among the salmon. The faint mew of a cat became the taut drawn out sound of a nimble finger against the crystal kissed strings of a duar. And so the young minstrel wrapped in the clothes of a mortal took the flower on adventures spun from the nebulous twilight that surrounded them.

The night drew to a close, the moon rising ripe against the ebony skin of her lover and the girl climbed back into the window...briefly touching the plant a fond farewell and stroking the pearl tight cluster of perfume cradled against the dark as it await the daylight. Her touch sent a small whisper of a petal careening into the wind, its path a lively jig in the wind as it whipped past the fire escape.

The small shell of a flower's heart wafted upwards, its concave form catching the thermal as it rode on the wind....a tiny winged falcon of beaten parchment on the night sky. Circling the city once in a lazy lope, the petal gusted upwards as the cool night air swam around it, carrying it farther away from the city until the landscape below it darkened from the thick cover of trees. A fey ring of ash stood near a clearing, the grass below the colour of a cat's eye .. green and slitted black in the darkness.

Standing in the centre of the ring sat a mighty oak, its branches leaning outwards as she gathered the songs of the earth's skin. Touching the embrace of the oak once, the petal slid down the thick waterfall of pale wood and sat listening to the trees across the distance murmur on the wind to the oak...sharing the tales of the universe as sung by its bards.

The petal rose above the murmur....a light airy descant on the alto chorus. It spoke of the tales of the young black clad bard imprisoned in the cage of steel and concrete, her hands smelling of paint and lush water. For a moment the tress overwhelmed the petal, mocking the whisper of song from deep within the city brought on the wings of a falcon made of flowers and plastic containers.

The oak, wise and resolute in her ways, quieted the voices so she might hear of the lament and joys of that single bard...a child of stories wrapped in the cocoon of fire tempered steel. The petal sang loudly of the girl, relaying in its chiming voice of the worlds spun from the girl's heart. As the wind slowly dried the petal and its voice grew weak as it strained to impart all that it had heard from its time with the plant. Aching with need to hear of the bard, the oak moistened the petal with dew she had collected in her upturned leaves...prolonging the fey-enchanted voice until it faded; a sigh swallowed by the wind.

Gladdened that the slim bard retained the plant as its storytelling companion, the oak sat back and listened to the revived murmur among the forest, content in the knowledge that not all story-gathering trees stretched far over the horizon - some sat huddled in the form of a bunch of daisies awaiting for the glass wall to breach open and the bard to return.