Gypsy

 

He had to admit the desert called to him. It was his favorite place to stop and rest wandering feet before moving on. Here he could feel the scorch of the sun beating down in all its glory, the harsh landscape testing the will to live every moment... Then the changing colors as the sky cleared to give view to the magnificent heavens. The clear horizon allowed for gazing upon the sun's magnificent paintings as it descended and departed for the night. These paintings stood momentarily like the colors of his own coat... 

 

He'd explored only one direction of the desert thus far, to the east, where brilliant sands rose up to red rocky mountain peaks. Beyond them, jungles bordered shining seas that swirled with promise. Wonderful as he found it; still he could not stay. He was a rover, a wanderer, an adventurer. A Gypsy. And he'd found a band of family at last. Though many were not travelers, some joined him for journeys. Others gave him a short rest in the wonderful places they called home. All laughed with him, shed tears with him, shared news with him. He fit into the puzzle so perfectly well, happy to come and go as he pleased, leaving hoofprints behind him and looking eagerly ahead.