What We Currently Know and Don't Know About Gnomes

What We Currently Know and Don't Know About Gnomes

In the hushed corners of garden beds, we know
gnomes tip their pointed caps at sunrise,
their eyes twinkling like dew‑kissed beetles,
guarding rosemary and thyme with quiet pride.

We know they fashion tiny tools from acorn shells,
that their laughter echoes in the rustle of leaves,
and that they favour mushroom circles for midnight feasts,
sipping elderflower cordial beneath the moon’s soft glow.

We know their beards are braided with moss and thyme,
their shoes cobbled from bark and spider‑silk,
and that they whisper ancient riddles to the wind,
hoping the old oak will carry them to distant glens.

Yet what we do not know lingers like mist:
Do they dream in colours unseen by human sight?
Are their kingdoms woven beneath the roots of time,
or do they simply fade when the last petal falls?

We wonder if their hearts beat to a different drum,
if their sorrow turns to stone, their joy to starlight,
and whether, when the world grows too loud,
they retreat into the quiet between breaths.

So we stand, trowel in hand, half‑knowing, half‑guessing,
offering a smile to the statues that guard our roses,
content that some mysteries remain—
the gnomes’ secret songs, forever half‑heard.