I am
soon to become
an old Fey
of the woods,
an old man
of the watery way,
wandering
as I should.
If you chance to meet me
on some distant path,
mark me by my feather,
sadness, and by my
hickory staff.
I will play you a song.
I will sing you my truth.
I will open my hand
and give a gift to you –
a cold river rock,
painted “kindness.”
© CG Tenpenny, 2022.
Image generated by AI.
