He considered himself a common gnome,
Of course, there’s no such thing.
Every gnome is special
Just like every human being.
He was about as tall as a mushroom,
And that included his pointy red hat.
His overalls were oversized.
His ears were pointy and flat.
His garden wasn’t much to look at,
And that bothered him deep inside.
You see, in the world of a garden gnome,
Your garden’s your joy and your pride.
But plants in his garden had gone to seed;
Others were puny and yellow and frail.
The zucchini had overtaken the squash
And was moving in on the kale.
He was so tired from working the garden,
He leaned against the pole of his spade,
And he quietly and wistfully listened
To a solo cricket’s serenade.
He surveyed the garden, discouraged,
And though he wasn’t one to complain,
The only beauty he found as he stood there
Was in the lyrical cricket’s refrain.
Wanting to pay the cricket a compliment,
The gnome climbed his way through the thicket.
Then he gently parted some radish leaves,
To search for the talented cricket.
When the gnome found him the cricket went silent.
The gnome bowed and asked, “How do you do?
I just want to say I love how you play,
I wish I had talent like you.”
“I’m not very good at things,” said the gnome.
The cricket’s reply was both kind and true.
“If that’s what you think, it is so,” he said.
“But I know there’s a much greater you.”
“We are just the same — you and I,
And there is nothing we can’t achieve.
But we must know in our hearts we can do it,
We must truly and deeply believe.”
“That’s probably true for crickets,
But not for me,” the gnome replied.
“I can’t even make my garden grow,
And I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried.”
The cricket thoughtfully responded,
“It’s like when you’re planting seeds,
You plant only what you want to grow.
You don’t intentionally plant weeds.”
“Be just as mindful of your thoughts
And words like ‘should’ and ‘can’t.’
Thoughts are seeds that grow your life.
Be careful what you plant.”
The cricket’s advice was sage and wise.
Deep in his heart the gnome knew it.
In order to change he must start with his thoughts
And he determined right then he would do it.
He became impeccable about weeding
Both his garden and his thought.
He imagined his garden at its best,
And made it so — plot by plot by plot.
In no time that humble garden
Grew green and vibrant and tall.
And the bounty was remarkable
When harvest came that Fall.
The gnome’s heart was filled with gratitude
— Not just for his garden’s yield —
But for that cheerful cricket
And the wisdom he revealed.
The gnome hosted a harvest dinner
To give thanks for being so blessed.
And in the place of honor the cricket sat,
As the gnome’s celebrated guest.
Now he knew he wasn’t a common gnome,
Because there is no such thing.
Every gnome is special
Just like every human being.
Fabletime 