by Robert L. Ferrier19 Sep 2014
The visitor appeared as a side door vision
tan leather hat, coat and pants
well-deep eyes, indefinite age
a weathered face, perhaps
just down from the Rockies.
He shunned serving lines and tables
immune to the aroma of dressing
indifferent to laughter and toys
asking only to see
to whom he handed a staff
grown of maple or aspen
smoothed of bark and sturdy.
“This is for you,” he said.
“Use it for your flock next year.”
The Leader spun to show his helpers
then turned back to offer thanks
but found only air
still charged with
a lingering shade.