Hiking Bramble Bog
I took a hike in Bramble Bog,
and reveled in the croaking frogs;
the singing crickets and river song,
were lovely, so I whistled along.
By the river, on a great cypress branch,
upon which, I chanced to glance,
sat a bull and two young elves;
they were doing something swell!
Clearly, I’d walked into a peculiar land;
elves and bull behaved like man.
There they sat, painting away,
with brush and canvas, on a field day.
I’d never disrupt this cheery band,
for they had such talented hands;
and cloven hoof with paint-filled brush,
was painting a portrait of a tiny thrush.
I snapped a picture with my cell,
quietly so they’d never tell;
and slipped away into the wood,
believing I had something good.
Oh, my friends would all love this,
I went home in ecstatic bliss.
but, when I went to show my friends,
I noticed something on the lens.
The picture was a blotchy mess,
an unidentifiable, amorphousness.
There was nothing to show my friends
and I never saw that sight again.
A curious thing in my backpack,
was a canvas framed all in black.
A tiny note, there beside,
read, “Elvin magic, we’ve applied...
surprise!”
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