Thursday, October 1, 2020

The Aged Faun



    Night was coming on fast by the time I reached the mountain crest. The gentle winds carried the scent of decay and the swaying vegetation, what little there was, was stunted and dry. The old faun was near the mouth of a cave, resting in the growing shadows. I tipped my hat. "Nice place."

Zinnia Dreams

There are people who can make the desert bloom and faded hearts to flower. Such people have a gift ... and such people are a gift.