The Little People Poem by Justin Gildow

The little people
You can't find them
Unless you go hunting through
the plains
Or battle throughthe misty dew
in the woods
Yet, they're there
They're there

I wonder to myself about
the little people
If they know of me
If they think of me

Taking a walk alone
I go into the woods
The sun wants to pierce
through the trees
I can see

I'm carrying a walking stick
While having stones in my
pocket
I don't know if I'm going to
be attacked
I don't know if I'm going to
be distracted

I have no idea if I'll find the
little people
Or even if I'm going to meet
them
Or if they'll leave gifts in
the woods for me to find
Or if they'll leave traces of
evidence of their existence behind

The mist is cleansing
I can feel it on my skin
The dew looks beautiful
Maybe I'll see the little people
Maybe I'll find their houses
Or wherever they live
I wonder if I'll find their
houses
I wonder if they're secluded
in darkness
Or hidden from plain view

Somewhere here
The little people are here
I wonder if I'll find them
Or stumble upon them