Don't Eat Us!

My facial hair is red.  My temper is hot. My affronts are original and unobstructed.

No. I’m not writing from a leprechaun’s point of view.

Today I remember my Irish heritage. Thank you, Irish Blood, for not forsaking me. You bless me with an impulsive tongue and also the reflexes to avoid the fist fights it triggers.

I don’t claim to be a poet, but I love leprechauns.  Some day I’ll meet one and the battle of wits will be fought, once and for all.

Here’s a poem I wrote, dedicated to all those leprechauns enjoying St. Patrick’s Day:

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By the starlit sky I laid in wait

For no gold of my own had I.

‘Cause the Little Man comes to hide his own

And the crafty man might spy.

*

With a pitter-pat-pat came his dancin’ feet

So I froze with bated breath.

Stumbling ‘long came that drunken dwarf

Not more than a drink from death.

*

“Your pot of gold is all I ask!”

My hopes by now sky high.

“Of course young Laddy!  Come with me!”

And he hobbled to a nook nearby.

*

Greed and triumph squired my steps

No awe for his slippery flair

His happy hum hid well the plot

He hatched under ginger hair.

*

“Here it be,” he said, his glib excuse

I reached, my hopes alive

“Spend it well, my friend,” and he was free

My hand?  In a bee-filled hive.

-Nick Saari

*

HAPPY ST. PATRICKS DAY EVERYONE!