Picture if you will an elderly, maritime gnome
sitting on the seashell that he calls home.
Surrounded as he is by the next generation.
Teaching them to fish. Basking in their veneration.
A shape approaches looking like a shadow itself.
Flat and round, it makes its way up the continental shelf.
Its size provokes in the younger gnomes a sense of alarm.
One asks the elder “Is there not a danger of harm?”
The elder gnome grins until the fish takes the bait
when he’s whisked off his shell by this piscine plate.
Dragged into the sea while the youngsters holler and cry.
They don’t know what to do. They’re convinced he will die.
But the elder swims back before things get too maudlin.
He laughs at their expressions and says with a grin
“It is of course well known from riverbank to holm
that wherever you go there is no plaice likes gnome.”