Bramble hovers over a clover patch. Her wide wings fan the flowers shut. Tiny bees zoom past, already full.
She dives toward the clover — but the flowers close tight. She lands with a soft thud. Her basket is empty.
At the poppies, she dives and lifts again. Again. The flowers tumble and roll. One petal lands in her basket.
Golden pollen drifts from the sunflowers at the hilltop. She spreads her wings and tilts into the breeze. Her fuzzy legs catch the dust.
Bramble flaps harder. A giant whoosh races across the hillside. Golden clouds burst outward.
Far-flung flowers shiver and burst open — a rainbow of color. The whole hillside wakes up.
The next morning, Bramble rests on a wide sunflower. She watches her pollen ride the wind to new places.
Wildflowers bloom in every crack and corner. The hillside has never looked so bright.
