From Whole Cloth Poem by Lynn Anne Brown

Helper Elves, Angels and the Fay
Come in all sorts of shapes and sizes
Some as big and wide as tree's
Some as softly in the world
As the Fluff on Dandelions
Some are really Clever
Some take a while get it
Some know it
But don't know
There is a Word
Though they keep Using it
Some build with wood
Some with iron
Some cloth
Some weaving words
Out of whole cloth as they say
But then It makes me wonder
Where they found it
Some share the stories widely
Voices trained to carry stories
Across the Mountains
And through
The Plains
Some have ears
So long they begin
To look like extra arms
Others sit tiny and petite
Rounded even, no point at all
Most fall somewhere in between
Though all of us are listeners
Ears perked for tales
And Myths
And Stories
To Map
Our understanding
Of this Reality
Strange Place
It is at that
So noisy most times
As one sound overlaps the other
Until it's not a wonder, that most humans
Are half deaf to reason
As reason rarely has the room
To be well heard
Except for when we choose to
Choose to share the wisdom that we gather
When we put the knowledge that each one has
Into the Common pot, into the stew of things
Our resources grow beyond out best imaginings
Into something more...
That something that we keep looking for
Those who understand what it is
To celebrate a Joyful Peace
While remaining willing to Defend it