Firefly Glen then why do you cut me so deep?

he was still far from grown.

he dispersed after rivenwood had disbanded, the only thing in his pocket a piece of lint and two fat quarters that he thought he could make something of. the young ram had turned back a month before summer's end, his eyes derelict and no longer able to say his own name.

dried clay stuck his hair out in wild places along his legs and stomach, sneering every once and awhile to the phantom pain in his temple. a gift from a father of girl who who lied about being alone as she claimed.

sighed from his nose when he unexpectedly chanced upon a woman in the glen, meditating.

he stared over her like a silent elm.