the little smiths

father had sky blue hair to match his eyes.

mom was coifed in very light green hair 

with hazel eyes and always wore 

a sepia house dress with a matching

flower print apron.

they were little people who 

lived under our redwood decks.

daddy was about six inches tall,

mom about 5 inches. junior was 

10 years old, three and a half inches tall.

dad worked at the carver trade.

he could carve almost anything.

once he carved a pine wood little girl, 

‘cause mom wanted a daughter!

they ate from the garden that 

my wife faithfully tended. 

in coldest winter, the little family 

moved into a crack in our house’s foundation, 

there they had to fight off field mice, 

kangaroo mice, voles, rats taller than father 

and sometimes they ate of a rodent they killed.

on holidays, like Thanksgiving or Christmas,

dad always tried to catch a small bird. 

a sparrow or finch. if successful, the tiny

family had a wonderful, belly filling dinner. 

they had a second set of bright clothes, 

mom made from rags my wife 

left in the garage, for cleaning up. 

if faeries stopped by to light on 

the most beautiful flowers, 

in fine warm weather, the family 

and faeries sang soft tunes.

the faeries, of course, 

knew all about little people, unlike us. 

these times seemed like parties of 

celebration and dancing for 

the Smith family. 

twice, i was trying to photograph hummingbirds, 

nearly got a shot of these little creatures dancing 

and singing with the faeries, but they 

always were so fast escaping, 

that i only imagined i saw them!