The elephant was contemplating his muse.
He was lying beside the river, trailing one of his big feet in the water. He watched as the current rippled and sparkled past and noted the occasional leaping fish with bemusement.
He looked across to the other shore with a sigh and then closed his eyes to more fully experience the race of the river against his toes. After indulging himself in this manner for awhile, he flopped onto his back so he could look at the trees.
He traced their outline against the blue sky with his trunk and followed the curve of some branches overhanging the river with interest. He even smiled benignly as a family of monkeys clambered up one tree, leapt through the canopy of leaves, and raced down another.
He suddenly slapped his forehead with his trunk, rolled over with such force that he jostled a boulder with his flank, and began to emote.
The monkeys in the trees
Cause a breeze when they sneeze.
“Pardon me?” said the boulder.
I nudged the boulder with my shoulder.
It was older and much colder.
“Oh boy,” said God.
“I am a POET,” said the elephant.
“Oh boy, again,” said God.
It is a stone which has grown
In a zone all alone.
“Would that I were — alone, and away from the voices.”
“I’m expressing myself,” said the elephant.
“That is a statement of truth,” said God, “which does not contain the whole truth.”
It is a thrill to have free will,
That is until others say ‘nil’.
“To be fair,” God stifled a chuckle, “you seem to have grasped the concept of rhyme, although your reach sometimes exceeds it.”
“But that’s what heaven’s for,” pointed out the elephant.
“You’ll get,” said God, “no Browning points from me.”
That’s not my last, don’t be so fast
My muse to cast into the past.
“You’ve heard about too much of a good thing?” asked the boulder, giving a nudge of its own.
“Yes,” said the elephant.
“Well, this isn’t it.”
“You don’t like the way I make the words dance?”
“I’d rather sit this one out.”
In the misty morn, he sat forlorn;
He wouldn’t adorn, the dance floor well-worn.
“Oh boy,” said God.
“As you can see,” said the elephant. “I provide a lot of bon mot for each and every occasion.”
“Such a threat is enough to make a boulder crumble,” said the boulder.
The rock of ages dissolved in stages
And proved the sages’ noblesse obliges.
“Oy veh,” said God. “I’ve become a straight man for a stand-up elephant.”
“I could pack a hall,” said the elephant.
“You could pachyderm,” pointed out God.
It’s just a guess. I do confess
That more is less in the wilderness.
“This could go on forever,” said God.
“You’re the expert there,” pointed out the elephant.
“Then I think I’ll repair to the forest,” said the boulder.
He stood, in the wood,
Where he could do most good.
The boulder rumbled with a voice which filled the jungle.
Poems are made by fools like thee,
But only I can make a tree.