ARE YOU A MAN THAT'S KINDA SHRUNK A LITTLE? (6)

                                                    

THE STRANGER

As I was walking through a wood, one cool September day,

I chanced to see a stranger standing jaunty, in my way.

There wasn't much about him to remark about, I guess--

Unless it might be possibly the matter of his dress.

I couldn't help from noticing the jacket he had on,

For glory be! 'Twas greener than McGillicuddy's lawn!

Except for that, there wasn't much to stretch a pair of eyes--

Unless I should be mentioning the matter of his size!

It's really rather seldom you'll be meeting on your walks,

A bit of man who measures seven inches in his socks.

I looked at him and looked at him and kinda thought it over,

While he stared back, his little head just level with the clover.



                                                                

"You're not a native of the town!" I presently decided.

"No, that I'm not!" the little man quite cheerfully confided.

"Well then," I went on thoughtful-like, as sharp I looked him through,

"I'm thinking you're a stranger, here." Said he: "I think so, too!"

Said I: "Could be that you're a man who's kinda shrunk a little!"

"It could be now!" he answered me, a trifle noncommittal.

Then, standing up all fine and straight, he faced me like a hero.

(The brash of him whose size was little more than two times zero!)

Then sweeping off his tiny cap, he said with quite a bow

"Good luck to you, long life to you--and I'll be leaving now!"

With that, the little fellow went. 'Twas queer, I do declare!

He didn't walk away from me. He simply wasn't there!

Well, as I wandered homeward with the sunlight in my eyes,

I talked it over with myself. (Myself is wondrous wise!)

Said I: "He was a pipe dream! Aye! He surely was the type!"

"Fiddlesticks!" Myself replied. "You've never owned a pipe!"

And thinkin' of the matter, very sober in the dawn,

The both of us decided I had met a leprechaun!

Poetry with a Purpose 1987 Artist, Grace Lawrence