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Last evening near the twilight hour,
Too early to retire,
I pondered on the Holy Book,
Before an endless fire.
But as I closed the Book of Joel,
And added my 'Amen,'
Outside the window something moved—
And then it moved again ...
... outlined against the moonlit path,
Danced spindly little men.
It is my sole and lonely task,
To tend my LORD’s estate,
And keep all blossoms trimmed and safe,
Within the garden gate.
So while convinced I was deceived,
By the uncertain light,
I felt compelled to rub my eyes,
And squint into the night ...
... I heard those spindly little men,
All laughing with delight.
My fists were clenched in pious rage ...
My eyes embraced the gloom ...
I listened as those spindly men,
Discussed the garden's doom.
They scuttled briefly out of sight,
Behind the potter's shed,
Then soon returned astride some snails,
To storm the flower bed ...
... I should have stopped their slimy charge,
But watched in awe instead.
They sucked away the baby's breath,
And tore the roots from mums,
They pulled the foxgloves to the ground,
And sliced off all their thumbs.
They sharpened all the rosebush thorns,
To pierce my flesh when squeezed,
And pilfered blooms from marigolds,
To squander as they pleased ...
... I knew then these spindly men,
Would never be appeased.
I flung the front door open wide,
And rushed into the night,
Determined if these fiends persist,
I'd give them quite a fight.
A plowshare snatched among my gear,
Then down the path I flew,
To fling it at the mounted snails—
I furrowed quite a few ...
... but deep inside my racing heart,
I knew I was not through.
From somewhere high above my head,
There came a fearsome drone—
The dreaded beat of locust wings ...
But they were not alone.
Upon their backs were little men,
Each swinging bags of seeds,
Of choking vines and dandelions,
And other noxious weeds ...
... they headed for the flowerbeds
To sow unholy deeds.
As the swarm passed overhead,
The largest swooped at me,
And tossed vile wormwood in my eyes,
In hopes I would not see.
My fingers grasped a pruning hook,
Which leaned against the shed,
And thrust it like a sharpened spear,
Until the swarm was shred ...
... unable to resist my ire,
The wicked legions fled.
I claimed the garden battlefield,
In triumph for my LORD,
And vowed to keep a watchful eye,
For vermin once ignored.
Although in shadows they conspire,
And will attack again,
I promise to be more aware—
I'm wiser now than then ...
... and nevermore shall I be fooled,
By spindly little men.
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