Not far away, just down in the vale,
A skip and a jump off the Dellwinky Trail,
You'll find an ancient green wood,
And ruins where an old town stood.
To the south of the ruins a small cottage stands,
Built by an ambitious happy little man,
With a welcoming smile,and very gentle hands,
Some call him a gnome, so I guess you can.
Loric is a most chipper chap,
With twinkling eyes and a pointed blue cap.
He scurries about the trees in the forest,
And seems to never take a rest.
The old walnuts and oaks in late summer provide,
Nuts and acorns which they gladly share,
These Loric will pick, take and hide,
His Winter Stock he gathers with special care.
He hurries about as the luscious tree meats fall,
Stacking them as high as his house is tall,
For the hard season ahead he does prepare,
Not a spot of his storehouse does he leave bare.
You might think his smile is a mask for greed,
But he seeks to meet a bigger need,
You might think his work is that of a fool,
But he seeks to answer the golden rule.
Some forest folk work hard, anxiously looking ahead,
But all their work keeps them daily fed,
"What will we do for the winter," some do cry,
Looking at each other with a worried eye.
Then it comes, the winter winds blow,
All gets a coating of icy white snow,
Autumn stores run frightfully low,
Hunger in tummies starts to grow.
Loric's invite goes out with a smile,
It drifts through the wood as far as a mile,
Share my Winter Stock, there'll be no trial,
The price is right, come stay a while,
The cost the same to all, a friendly smile.
Come one, come all fill your hungry need,
There's enough for all to come and feed,
Folk of all sorts come, no need for shame,
Everyone here is treated the same.
But there are some unable to respond,
With them Loric has a special bond,
If they call his name and with their hands do clap,
Soon they see a smiling face and a bright blue cap,
He brings their need as quick as a snap.
Now some folk are special, friends, hard to find,
Like Tully and Meg, little creatures, poor but kind,
Lowly mice and a gnome calling each other friend,
Their bond together will never end.
They sit on his lap and eat at his table,
Special time, when they giggle at a fable,
Sharing their lives and opening their hearts,
As they munch on a batch of hot nut tarts.
So the message here from Loric to all,
When your Winter Stock becomes stingy and small,
As all around becomes bitter and cold,
Seek out one, a Friend you can call,
Who can feed your need and offer a warm loving hold.
by D R Hartle copyright 2007