Not so long ago,
I came upon Half Dome
half done, shrouded
in oak scaffolding.

Squinting my eyes,
I noted stocky little men
on the network of hardwood
toothpicks
with rosy cheeks and
beards like their bellies,
some chiseling away at the granite,
some polishing.

Looking again at all that
scaffolding, I recalled
how spacious the forests
and the meadows had been
before the white rangers came
and saved everything, and then
I thought, well,
these guys did it!

But what about the glaciers,
I inquired of one of the little people
who’d come by to offer me a pint.

What’s a glacier, he asked me.
Some kind of elf?

© 2013 Kaweah