Sunday, October 7, 2012


The dusty volumes looked down upon him
from their multi-colored piled-up heap
and from wood oak bookshelves
stacked so deep.

His library lighting was quite dim
and the incense smoke smelled thick.
The bickering was loud from little elves
who frequented the place from behind a brick.

Squirrels would look and then come in
to rest a bit from jumpin' to and fro.
Over open sills, proud of themselves,
they came inside, put on their frolicking show.

Birds could be heard through the fireplace rim
and seen at the feeders through the window pane.
Lighting on them from where the earthworm delves
and resting there to shelter from heavy rain.

Smoking his pipe he pounded in another shim
to keep those shelves from leaning
too far this way, too far that; theirselves
peeked in to see what the bearded man was beaning.

Beethoven playing in the background, on a wim
they planned to fool the old Dad
and thought to themselves amongst the shelves
what if the thinker would get too mad.

But he was smarter than they thought, Tim
was no fool; a wise old man was he.
So, he grabbed them little elves
and sat them down upon his knee!

And by the ancient fire's light
they danced a jig (the squirrels too!)
that shook the floor so very hard!
They woke the woods up in the night
amidst howls of laughter from pinned up pig
and danced until they were awfully tired.

Then the wise old man stepped softly
through his fallen leather books
and found his soft blue chair
to fall into sleepily
and nod off
to dream.

mindbringer, 6 September 2012