A Day in the Life of a Seedling

The sun warmed my new leaf gently as I sipped moisture from the freshly watered soil. My roots were beginning to spread and sometimes they wound around roots from neighbouring plants. One had reached the bottom of the soil and rested upon the black base of the tray where it too could feel the sun's heat.
We were moved this morning. The tinsel which had glittered in the sun and kept the birds away in our infancy was removed and we found ourselves in the shade. I revelled briefly in the cool. There was a commotion at the other end of the tray, seedlings being uprooted and earth scattering over surrounding leaves. Small screams issued from plants as their roots were exposed to the sun and then left to die. The causalities were the small, the sick and the weak, with only the occasional large seedling felled.
The hand which pulled up so many of my fellows approached me. I felt my roots tugged as the places where I had twined with others were wrenched apart. The hand fell to my right, earth showering over my new leaf, leaving it in darkness. The hand descended again, pulling up my neighbour, leaving me destabilised and lurching toward the ground. A finger caressed my stem, righted me. The earth around me was firm and empty.
Soon I was back in the sun; soil washed from my new leaf with fresh water, roots expanding once more to accommodate the new leaves I would grow tomorrow.