Picture: Sleeping Sheperd by François Boucher
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Gog Nittel was his name.
He had no pride, fear nor shame.
A fairy, some would say
Whispering by the fire light;
A gnome, they would play
And sing in the dim blue night.
Yet,
As soon as someone grasped his name
He would vanish down the drain,
Along with ifs, whens and sos,
And other wordy rococos.
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Gog Nittel was his name,
He sought no coin, lure nor fame.
“Where is that old baboon?!”
Wise men and women, soon,
Learnt the trick and would not say
A single word to make him stay.
They would just sit or walk in awe,
Knowing the secret
Of letting go.
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Herons
