A couple of illustrations based on a short poem I wrote(below):
Bluefeather Lee lives in woodlands green
In a house near crisp-running creeks
He spends all his days in the glowing moss glades
And his friends hang about in the shade.
Some run or roll, some crawl and some glow,
As they follow their favorite fellow
Near the stream they daydream of that and of this
So the best part of fishing isn't catching the fish.
When evening climbs down through branches and trees
It is time to go home for Bluefeather Lee.
His friends lead him home to the house made of stone
Over creeks to the wide open meadow
To his tiny kitchen Lee invites them all in
And they share a meal fit for a king
