The Druid

He is not a young man, nor a prosperous one.

Just a look can tell you that.

His robe is worn and if not exactly shabby,
it is, to be polite, "experienced."
His boots are covered with the dust of the road,
and, to judge from his slow and careful gate,
may not be the best fitting.

He mumbles uncertainly,
forever seeming lost even in familiar surroundings.

But for those who look closely,
there is something ~else~ about him.

How can it be that with all that walking,
his boots show no wear on their soles?
Do those quick, vibrant eyes
with the unusual golden irises
really belong to an doddering ancient?
How is it that his robe displays always
the same degree of shabby disrepair?

And what of the predator that accompanies him:
the large lynx he calls
"My little animal" ?

This then is The Druid
who travels from place to place,
following paths of his own,
on errands unknown.