There’s a very light coating of dust on the surface, it’s a slow moving river one could hop not  be fooled though, it’s slippery and deep, and in the far bank shady, in the soft grass by day the vagabond sleeps.

I believe I know what he sees in dream, is anger dissolved and world washed clean. And from wisdom learn, to take only what you need for today, not how much.

The vagabond Godfrey, wakes with the evening mist’s touch. Dragon flies hover, it’s now cool by the water, supper cooks on the fire, all is as it should be. Above him the stars flash on one by one, as he has since boyhood,watching the night sky in wonder sits Godfrey.

Now the prairie moon plays with her light on the water, it is colder to, blanket heavy with dew. He is feeling his age, but yet no loss of courage. His world is a peaceful place, and but for his poems, and threads of plaid wool, in his passing  the vagabond leaves not a trace…THE 21st WISDOM OF GODFREY STATES- COLD SPRING WATER DRANK FROM CUPPED HANDS, IS AS COOL AND REFRESHING AS ANY DRANK FROM THE SILVER ZARF..


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