Outside the glass walls bolts of ice-white lightening fracture the roiling gray clouds. In the humid greenhouse, her head reels from the chaos of exotic colors and scents.
Atop the potting bench, she nestles into the mound of dark, rich soil. Eyes closed, blouse open, she kneads her naked breasts with earth besmirched hands, relishing the grainy touch. Dress pulled up, fingers tease out the burgeoning blossom from beneath the soft brown moss. Nurturing, knowing touches bring it quickly to full flower. Rolling thunder drowns out her ecstasy.
She rises slowly and goes outside to recover in the pounding rain.