The Little People

Three little people hang out
on the the edge
of my bookshelves
quietly reading
the life history of corvids
the courtship of red-tails
light on yoga
a book of Celtic legends
and Anglo-Saxon riddles.

They cross their feet
in zazen, permission granted
to enter the narrows,
follow the ways of shelf elves.

I put my father’s German cottage
ornament for the Christmas tree
beside them, thinking I’d have to be
one-eighth of a toothpick
to fit inside the front door,
slouch by that woodshed
build its snow-woman
or crawl into the shade
of the broken tree beside the fence.

There might be room enough
to discover that shrinking
and finding something
good to read or
think of gentle events
without disturbing
neighbors
is possible.

—

Tricia Knoll is a Vermont poet who lives in a small house in the woods. The trees are covered with snow. The pawprints of hares dots the snow. For links to her many published poems, visit triciaknoll.com