Alana Ferguson
This (relatively) young daisy lost its petals and was discontented reproducing as a bald stamen on a fuzzy stick. Reaching its neck out, it caught a tangle of hair that was rolling in the wind, which flung onto its pollinated core. Contentedly covered yet choking, it reached out again for a rogue plastic bag that was torn through the middle. The bag hung around its soft post like a shirt as it flapped in the wind. Feeling an ugly mess, this daisy stuck out its neck to catch a soiled napkin with some color. It stood, finally fatigued from reaching and catching and bearing these poor quality petals. It took up a serious stock still stance, a concise bundle of trash.