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author’s note:
Written after watching the 2019 documentary The Seer and The Unseen.
THE MAGIC OF IMAGINATION
One long-time resident
can actually see the legendary elves
who inhabit our island.
This woman especially enjoys
a quaint village she recently found
in a shadowy stand of oak
between two little knolls.
Yes, I believe her stories
because I can see the shine in her eyes
when she tells how she frolics with them
in a secret forest clearing.
They like to play fifes
and ring tiny tinny bells
as they skip about
in red shoes that curl at the tip of the toe.
I want to see as she sees.
Yes, I find beauty all over the forest
nonetheless
I’d still like to see an elf do its dance.
But until I’m able to defog my eyes
I’ll try to satisfy my wish
vicariously
by imagining her loving descriptions as fact.
No, I haven’t quite eliminated doubt yet, but
the response in my heart says:
if you can feel the magic, the magic must be real.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
My dancing feet refuse to learn dance steps. I think they just want to be free.
MY FESTIVE SONG AND DANCE
I told the wise one:
“The love I feel in my heart
seems inadequate for the task of life—
I’ve tried but can not lose
that quietly persistent sense of lack.”
And in reply the wise one said:
“Yes, you love the rain
but you hate
when rainwater floods your lot.
And yes, you love the sun
but you hate
when those fiery rays scorch your crops.”
Aided by her insight I then saw the obvious:
If I saved my love for those parts of life I liked
my love would never fully develop—
I also needed to love the hardships I dreaded.
So I tried to love the times of pain:
I danced when merciless storms came
and sang a song of love
when the sun seemed so uncaring.
But despite my festive efforts
I still could not quite love
the fire and the flood.
However
since I love to dance and sing
I did feel some love in my heart
during weather that seemed unfair.
But still not enough, not enough.
So I continue to try
to learn to love the deluge that ruins
as well as the sun’s cruel nonchalance.
Not easy work to be sure, but made easier
by my stubborn song and dance of love.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
Still shrinking.
A PARADOX OF SIZE
One day I told a wise tree:
“I sense I’m being driven from within
but I can’t see what
I am trying to accomplish.”
With a sigh, the tree then said:
“You can’t see because
your deepest desire is buried so deep.
“Look down deep and you will see:
“That you want to cross over a threshold
so you live in a mansion open to the sky.
There, you can rise to your full height
and squeeze rainwater from the clouds.
“But before you can cross
you must first shrink yourself down
because the door is small and low to the ground.”
“You mean, I must become less than I am?” I cried.
“No, you just need to realize
your actual size.
Like everyone else
you’re really quite little.”
“But if that’s so
how can I possibly reach the sky?”
I whined.
“Because of a paradox,”
the tree replied.
“As you deflate, you grow.
Just like everybody else.
“A slow painful process, yes
but without humility
height and weight can be dangerous.
You’ll be helping the whole world.”
As I left the tree then
I felt so foolish
but at least I’d shrunk a bit more.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton
If you can’t find a four-leaf clover, I say: just use a little tape.
IN A FIELD OF CLOVER
“Your body is a green field of clover.”
When I found that line recently
I cringed with embarrassment—
what a silly besotted troubadour!
But then I remembered
the meadow of clover
where we’d once laid down
to rest.
And then I wanted to unremember
and when I couldn’t
I decided to return to that clover field—
desperate for a way to resolve
the conflict in my head.
So Sunday morning I drove
along that isolated dirt road
until I found the field.
Then I stopped and wandered out to the spot
and laid down on my back.
Again I felt
the cushiony springs of green beneath me.
Again I felt
the bright fleecy clouds breezing above me.
And to my surprise
in short time
all the commotion inside died—
my head felt delightfully light.
But then suddenly
a tree branch at field’s edge
splintered the sun’s rays
and a prism fell right into my eye
and I began to cry.
But not like a child, no—
I wept like someone
who’s lived long enough
to have learned well enough
the value of the complicated relationships
we endure and enjoy
with the complicated people
who leap or creep into our lives
for reasons too complicated
to ever fully comprehend.
Yes, I’d often told myself about the value
but I’d never actually felt gratitude
until I put thought to rest
and allowed emotion to rule
in the naked quiet
of a meadow filled
with soft clover love
and love from a Sunday morning sun.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton
Michael Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel) 