Fashioned with
a mustache
of spindly ferns,
and a beard
of mossy stones,
the hillside spring
whispers year round.
Sages, ripe with sense,
our forefathers
would not have bothered
with books
about growing
a better beard!
Our dogs —
fierce hunters
of belly rubs.
Over the years
the stone
bloomed lichens
in silhouetted circles.
josephsmotherman.com 
You never cease to surprise me. Very good….deep thoughts.
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Thank you Carolyn! Great to hear from you.
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