The Rock Mama
She strode the dirt road leading past our clearing; hiking shorts and shirt, a canvas pack, on walkabout from ramrodding a rock band. “You have to see my sacred spot” I offered, leading her down the faint trail to the spring fed pool beneath an ancient patriarch tree. Quickly stripping she immersed to her chin. A wispy beard betrayed my youth, her full breasts unveiled an older woman, maybe 27. I could only watch, awestruck.