Monday, January 18, 2010

The Huldufólk

Eve is the mother of us all,
those close at hand that we can see,
those hidden in obscurity,
fruit of the tree and of the fall.

Once God announced that he would come
to visit her and all her brood.
“Now, children,” she said, “don’t be rude
when God is here. Spit out your gum.

“I want you looking clean and neat
so you will be presentable.
It sure would be lamentable
if we aren’t ready when we meet.”

The time was short. She did her best,
but couldn’t get them all prepared.
When time had come, then she got scared.
God’s surely an important guest.

Some kids were ready. Some were not.
And God was coming up the road.
That’s what I’d call a “mother load,”
for she was really on the spot.

What, then, to do with all the rest,
the one’s who weren’t ready yet.
They’d never make it on a bet.
She wanted God to be impressed.

So, lest the meeting be a flop,
she hid the unwashed kids away.
They’d be prepared another day.
They’re hair all combed--not like a mop.

The children stood all in a row
and God inspected them that day.
“My goodness,” he said, “what a way.
This really has been quite a show.”

“Do you have any other kids?”
he asked, and fearful, she said, ”No.”
You wonder why she answered so.
That’s one way to put on the skids.

God left. You’d think he had to know
how many children should be there,
how many given to her care,
how many kids were a no-show.

And all of them God didn’t see
that day, the ones of which he spoke,
can not be seen--their Huldufólk,
and will be for eternity.

So, hidden folk they’ll always be,
and always, unseen, be with us,
yet seldom ever make a fuss.
They’re well behaved, you must agree.

The Huldufólk aren’t really bad.
They are the most like human kind
of all the others you will find,
each Hulda-maiden, Huldu-lad.

So do not fear the Hidden Folk.
They’re not like trolls that lurk at night
out in the summer’s pale moonlight
as sinister as evil Lok.

D. Gary Christian
Santa Clara, Utah
June 5, 2007

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