Gnomes

Gnomes

A friend of the Wood,
And all that is good,
They do what they should
For Nature’s yolk.

Small to our vision,
But without derision,
They make a decision
To work as play.

One laces his boots
To tiny feet like roots
And soon off he shoots
Into foliate fray.

Forest dwellers abound
Listen to profound
Wisdom to be found
From so small a hand.

We honor them well
With mockery’s yell.
Plastic idols tell
From lawns across land.

In our wanton desire
As our lives perspire
We lose sight of dire
Consequences to home.

A lot, we can learn
From a simple yearn;
A hefty need to return
To the land of the gnome.

Charcoal Sketch by Robert E. Norman

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Monday, December 1st, 2008 Poetry

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