My dog and I sit peacefully beneath the shade of the trees in our side yard. Suddenly, we are surprised by three massive, raven-winged mysteries soaring just above our heads. The large creatures glide into the trees that rise above the stream below, disappearing from my sight.
“Dragons,” states a Brownie man, as he suddenly appears next to me.
“Turkeys?” I counter.
“Turkey buzzards, perhaps?” suggests another Brownie man, appearing beside him.
The original Brownie man firmly shakes his head. “Do you both not feel the magic in the air?” he inquires, surprised.
A third Brownie man joins in our conversation. “Giant ravens, they are,” he explains.
“Could be large, magical crows,” offers the second Brownie.
“They are ravens,” states the third Brownie in a firm, no-nonsense voice.
Suddenly, the massive creatures soar back into the sky. I want to follow them, but my dog seems quite reluctant, leaning hard against my legs to prevent me from moving. I sense she is of the opinion that sometimes it is better for mysteries to remain mysteries.
“Dragons, they were,” earnestly repeats the original Brownie to us. And perhaps he is right . . .
“
