Surfaces: The Old Tree

I met an old man at dawn in the woods. He held a coffee cup and rested against a tree.

As I stopped, I saw his coffee had ice crystals laced across the top and there was a tattoo of a dragon etched on his arm.

He told me the raven that lives on the hill by my place brought him the shiny yellow mug. His hair was very white

and his nose was getting long.


Chickadees hopped across his shoulder. He smiled fondly at them. His eyes were so familiar. I asked him if we had met before.

He said, “Remember that snowy owl flying towards you in your headlights that night in the blizzard at Sylvan Lake? That was me.”

I remembered him then and smiled. He had been so beautiful when he was young.