Woodland Gnome

From the distance as I
clamber the wooded hill
he is an impish, elfin figure,
cap rakishly ajar on his head,
bare knees asunder as he
perches on the edge of an
old tree stump, a large hairy
creature foraging silently
close by. Ah, then, no gnome
of the summer-green forest
is he, after all. Although his
elfin attire and attitude
delighting in the deep emerald
luxury of the forest and the
dusky aspect of its encircling
embrace glorying in himself
as the very embodiment of
human gratitude toward
beneficent nature, for him a
symbolic, symbiotic triumph.