Part eight of Twelve Stories.
On a cliff on the western shore stands a lone lily growing in patchy grass. The dirt beneath looks like sand. Perhaps the cliff is made of this sediment, piled up over a span of time much greater than the lily could ever know.
The lily has yellow petals. with reddish speckles, with even more yellow and red coming pouring from the pistil.
Now and then, some sediment falls from the side of the cliff into the sea. The sea is about 85 meters (279 US feet) above the water. Despite the sediment-y composition of the cliff, there is no coast or beach below. The ever growing pile of sediment will get there someday. The lily will have been long gone by then.
The lone lily is frequently visited by bees, when the time is right.
In fact, organisms which can fly are some of the only ones who can even approach the lily. Land-bound creatures over a certain weight know intuitively that the earth of the cliff is too soft to support them.
Something like an ant can visit, though.
Like all lilies, this lone lily is a perennial – each year it comes back to life, blossoms, passes away, and is reborn.
But someday, it’s yearly cycle will come to a permanent, definite end. The cliff is crumbling, slowly, but surely. Someday, there will be no lilies upon any cliffs.