Bull Thistle.
I imagine it marvels at the march of ants and the detailed lines of spider silk reflecting the first vestiges of light in the morning dew..
I imagine it laughs at the curious chipmunks who scurry along in search of seeds filling their cheek pockets to line their winter stores.
I imagine with its deep tap root that it stands in rain and wind proudly tempting the goldfinch with its magenta colored flowers who land on it eagerly awaiting the eruption of its feather-like seeds.
I imagine the cold shivers that run through its harsh spines in the eerie quiet stillness of a slithering snake making its way across the spaces of dusty earth and grass..
I imagine it rests in the butterflies who flitter effortlessly on the summer breeze.. who stop to drink the sweet nectar it contains within.
When I see it I imagine it is just waiting to share all that it has seen if I can get close enough..