With a still, quiet voice she roared upward to meet Spring

Cutleaf Toothwort

Would she be as beautiful if no one saw her? Not one cell of her being can man create, and yet, he may carelessly trample the delicate perfection and never know she existed.  Whose loss is this?  Will the wind cease refreshing?  Will the stream stop singing, or the rain stop falling?  No, the earth will take her back and        make her new again.