the Native American

Standing about 5' 11' tall ... with long black hair that hangs loose ... a bronze tone to his skin ... he watches with eyes as dark as ebony ... my Native American. Yes, he's mine ... on rare occasions, when he manifests himself, he is wearing what I assume to be buckskin breeches. He never utters a sound ... but you feel him, when he draws near ... like a feather might touch your arm softly. He's probably wondering why on earth his descendants ever let the first white man land on these shores! He watches ... I believe he tried to warn me that the growing season here wasn't long enough for "maize" ... I think it was his voice in my head, so I mumbled something along the lines of "I call it corn." ... well, he was correct ... the growing season isn't long enough here ... the tomatoes have to be big plants ... you can pretty much forget pumpkins, squash or any other gourd family member in my happy little garden cause it ain't gonna grow. So I have a thriving herb and flower garden, thank you very much.
He hasn't been around for awhile now ... maybe he also knew this Winter was gonna be a humdinger ... or maybe his restless spirit finally finished a task left undone at the time of his death ... or maybe he went to Disney World to see Chip n Dale ... if he returns, I'll let you know.