Elsabob Comes To The Forest

The forest had enjoyed a magical transformation.
Dusk had ushered in the firefly brigade.
They lit up the pond area like tiny LED lights.
I could see they were excitedly motioning to the faeries.
Although I do not speak fire-flux, I recognize the aura
The few times I have sensed it.

The frogs began a croaking banter that would have
Made their grandmothers proud.
The crickets and grasshopper orchestra began in 
Earnest now.  

Nothing new until I heard the owls.  Two owls.
Exchanging Owl-Speak.  I could tell by their hoot 
Inflections they were seriously discussing 
Something big.  Something BIG.

A swoosh of cold air hit me in the face, I stepped
Back, into a pocket of much warmer air. “Watch out!”
A voice in my head cautioned me. I rarely hear
This voice, but when I do, it 
Needs attention.

The cattails were whispering among themselves.
At first I thought they were saying “el sha ba,” but then
I realized they were saying “Elsabob.”  I had heard of
Elsabob, the elf-like faerie hybrid, a cross between an elf,
And a faerie with a lioness’s heart, but I had not ever seen
Her.

“SH!” the cattails whispered, “SH!”
They stopped swishing and swaying, and stood perfectly still, at attention.
My friend Gabriel, a red fox, whispered in my ear, “Elsabob!”   I nodded. We were
Both on instant hyper- alert.  

Gabriel attempted to speak with me again,
But I shushed him.  I did not want to miss
Elsabob.  I feared if we spoke of it, it may
Never happen.  A speck of light much brighter
Than the other lights across the pond began
Moving rapidly toward us.

As it got closer and closer, it got brighter and 
Brighter.  I felt Elsabob’s essence before she materialized.
Everything in the forest seemed to be feeling her essence.
The trees began to smile, and the caterpillars danced.
The cattails resumed their swaying.  
For the first time I noticed the moon
Both above the pond, and in the pond.

Elsabob appeared first as an outline, then it was 
As if an invisible painter was filling her in with color.
As she hovered over the pond I could see a faerie-like 
Creature with the ears of an elf.  She was approximately
9 inches tall and her honey-colored hair was thick
And curly.  Her eyes were a combination of many
Eye colors.  She laughed at all of us. A tingly, fun, party laugh.


“We have arrived!” she shouted to her entourage,
 twenty or more faeries and elves, and nymphs, 
and one slightly inebriated leprechaun 
if the truths be known.
“Where is fox?” she asked.

My friend raised his paw up.  
“This must be the cat,” Elsabob said 
Looking directly at me.  She came
Forward  a foot from my nose.
I prefer to be called lioness, but
When you’re faced with a
Faerie princess, why argue?


“Your friend Gabriel said you have
Always wanted to meet me,” Elsabob said,
“Well, here I am.”  I gave Gabriel a grateful
Paw tap.  “I see you are a bit bashful,” she told
Me.  “That’s okay.” If anyone else would have 
Said this, I would have devoured them.

“I appreciate humbleness,” Elsabob said, “Especially
In the form of a lioness. I looked around nervously, 
Searching the trees.  “Don’t worry,” she told me. 
“Your pride is up on high hill, eating antelope.”
I felt relief.

It is one thing to be fascinated
By faeries, elves, and nymphs,
Completely different thinking
To let your pride – especially
Your husband know about it.

“I am granting your wish,” Elsabob
Told me.  “Your pride will never run
Out of food.  Hunting will be easy
And plentiful.”

The lone leprechaun pulled on
Elsabob’s sleeve and whispered
Something in her ear.  “And you
Must promise to stop eating
Leprechauns,” she cautioned me.
Sheesh! It was only that one time.
Still, I promised.

I bowed my head in subjugation, grateful
To Elsabob and my friend, Gabriel.  
It is always a good thing to have
Allies in the forest.  I went home
And slept well, feeling relief
and comforted,
mostly feeling gratitude
for my forest and my
friends.




Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.