Guardians of the Temple

author’s note:

Our logical explanations for mysterious happenings can sound so silly.


GUARDIANS OF THE TEMPLE

The wee folk grow increasingly
frustrated during these dim days--

in times past
people respected
those forest guardians hiding
in the rooted sub-turf--

people dared not tempt
you mischief makers
knowing they’d be led
off the path, made to walk
in a circle until
they chased their own tails.

Yet we enjoyed
how you lighted the wick
of our fascination--shadowing
the woodlands with sacred mystery.

Nowadays, even if we know
the stories about you
we don’t take heed--

most of us laugh you off.
No more reverence
for your mushroom rings--

nowadays, we try to live
in the straight step of logic--
ignoring the warnings
in the pit of our stomachs
that tell us you may retaliate.

When those sport hunters
trampled your enchanted clover
while flushing quail
one of yours
struck one of theirs
with a magical willow

but man merely blamed
the sneezy bumpy aftereffect
on a violent pollen allergy.

Then, after his shotgun
sprayed the face of his friend
with a hundred waspy stingers
he just thought he was unlucky
when drunk.

Though I don’t expect you
to forgive our arrogance,
I beg pardon--

because I want to see, to feel
your woods again--
I’m willing to kneel
beneath the frown of your tree
to ask permission
to revisit the temple
we’ve so casually disgraced.

© 2010, Michael R. Patton
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