I am righteous screaming beauty, with my wicked scarlet ways. The words that are spoken, you may never hear. They are carried on the wind in a language you may never know. And as my mouth fills with pollen, I choke on its sweetness. Waiting for the toils of time to take their toll, so I may die and come back in the spring, reborn and recharged. Ready to hail the forest floor with my floral call and cloak of carmine charms, once again.