Grandpa Bene Poem by Richard D Remler

........



Grandpa Bene wore
An oldish brim hat,
And peered into the wilds
From where he sit-sat.
He'd been nursing a tea,
Black as can be,
Always wise to the things
That I never could see.

He said,"Have you heard of the
Fabled Phelonious Wyck? "
And of course I said NO,
With a bit of a sigh.
For to nod and say yes
When I really meant no
Would have most assuredly been
An awfully big lie.

"They're out there, " he said,
"Every one, one and all.
They are out there, they are.
All the big and the small,
All darting through
Dew-covered
Witch grasses tall.
And all of them, every one,
Having a ball."

And his eyes sort of shimmered,
With a sad silly smile,
And he said, "Though I haven't seen 'em
For a week and a while."

And then his eyes beamed,
And he spied the tall trees,
And said, "Have you ever heard
Of the Wee-Willowbees? "
Always buzzing about
With their toes in the air.
Oh, you might think I'm kidding,
But they're all out there.
About every blue tree,
And we never do see."

I thought
He was kidding a bit,
It's true.
For I'd never seen
A Willowbee buzzle on through.
I had never seen
A Phillonious Wyck puzzle by.
I'd never seen anything
Odd
Ever try.

And Grandpa,
Oh, he so absently sighed,
Teasing a thought in his head.
He took a long sip from his tea,
Peered over the waters
And said,
"Have you heard of
The Northeastern Wigglenott Nitt?
They're iffish.They're piffish,
A lot and a bit.
They're scuddy and scurvy,
And quick like a Snidd.
I caught me a few, as a kid.
Yes I did."
And he smiled so quiet,
So peaceful, so fair,
I'm sure he'd forgotten
That I was right there.
He was lost in that moment
Of a timeless somewhere.
It was as if he had wandered
Away on his own,

And I felt so alone.

It was as though he'd remembered
A blue in the sky.
It was as if he'd just noticed
An Ittle walk by.
His eyes, they were so filled
With his own clever wit,
And I watched him in awe
From where we sat-sit.

"Have you heard of the Feebin?
The Treefolk of old?
The healers of nature,
The hoarders of gold.
Always peeping about
Where they ought
Not to peep,
Aye, Bindleburr-knobbers
Who never do sleep.
They're always awake
And about and around,
And you never do know,
For they make not a sound.
But they're there, rightly so,
In the green of their tree,
Always peeking about to see
What they can see.
And borrowing niddles
And pins we misplace.
A button, or two.
Or a wee bit of lace.
A peppermint sprig,
Or a thimble that fell
Between the floorboards.
They'll use it
For a spell.
And we never do know
They've been lurking about.
For, we humans are fools
Who relish in doubt."
And he laughed and breathed in
The soft blue of the day,
Smiled bemused,
And then looked softly away.
"Evernettles are there.
If you're quick
You can see
The lot wisping about
In the blue of their tree.
But man is a greedy old monster,
And they
Know us far, far too well,
And keep safely away."

I watched him,
Each sparkle of shine
In his eye,
What he so easily saw,
I could not even spy.
He took off his hat
And he finished his tea,
Took a deep breath
And then he studied me.
And he said,
"Open you heart, son.
Open it wide.
And let something
Extraordinary inside.
There is Wonder about,
Just a bit, and a lot.
And she lurks ever 'round,
More often than not.
She is blessed with a magic,
And mystery to share-
Soft as a rainbow
And sweet as a prayer.
A bit of enchantment
Can go a long way -
The same way a smile
Adds charm to a day.
Open your heart,
And open it wide.
There's a world of wonder
Awaiting inside."

And Grandpa, he smiled,
Resting his eyes.
As if he were dreaming
Of marmalade skies.
As if he were sailing
Along a green sea,
He smiled as fine
As a smile can be.
And that's when I saw it,
And saw it I did,
A wispet of wonder
That flittered and hid,
Right near the spectacles
My Grandpa would wear,
This it little flidget
Was lingering there,
Watching me watch it
Watch me for a while.
This itbit of wonder,
And I had to smile.
It studied me cautiously,
Wary and wise.
It watched me completely,
With both of its eyes,
It moved ever closer -
And made not a sound.
Then calmly it nodded itself
Up and down,
And smiled, it's eyes a bright red,
Yellow, and blue,
This wee little hobbin,
That tapped at each shoe.
It stretched out its wings,
And it tasted the breeze,
And then, with a wisp,
Flew back into the blue
Of the trees.

As as Grandpa Bene dozed
Just under the sky,
As the afternoon quietly
Whistled on by,
I realized that day,
So late, late in May
I finally understood
The magic
Of my Grandpa Bene.


Copyright © MMXIV Richard D. Remler

**a children's tale**