Elephant Talks to God by Dale Estey Read Free Book Online Page A

the clay, and the butterflies watched me get out — and not without laughing a lot, either. And then they suggested we make some pots.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œThe butterflies and me.”
    The elephant finished rubbing his back left foot against his front right leg and walked carefully over to the boulder.
    â€œThey suggested shapes and patterns and sizes. Then they described how they could use their wings to help me dry the pots in the sun.” The elephant looked cautiously into the sky and lowered his voice. “But they weren’t much help with the practical matters.” He came even closer to the boulder. “I mean, have you ever tried to form a porcelain jug with a trunk and two tusks?”
    â€œYou need quartz to make porcelain,” noted the boulder.
    â€œThat’s what I told them,” said the elephant. “But they had this dream of a translucent container.” The elephant sighed in disbelief. “And the handle . . . well, the handle they wanted was just impossible.”
    â€œBut you were going to try.”
    â€œOh, yes.” The elephant laughed and pointed to the tops of the surrounding trees. “They’re all waiting up there, and we’ll probably go at it again once you leave.”
    â€œThat doesn’t surprise me.” God was silent a minute, then lowered his voice. “Before you return to the bank, dig around in the river behind me.”
    â€œWhy?” asked the elephant.
    â€œQuartz,” answered God.

Only I
    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
.
    â€œPardon me?” said the boulder.
    I nudged the boulder with my shoulder.
It was older and much colder
.
    â€œOh boy,” said God.
    â€œI am a POET,” said the elephant.
    â€œOh boy, again,” said God.
    It is a stone which has grown
In a zone all alone
.
    â€œWould that I were — alone, and away from the voices.”
    â€œI’m expressing myself,” said the elephant.
    â€œThat 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’
.
    â€œTo be fair,” God stifled a chuckle, “you seem to have grasped the concept of rhyme, although your reach sometimes exceeds it.”
    â€œBut that’s what heaven’s for,” pointed out the elephant.
    â€œYou’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
.
    â€œYou’ve heard about too much of a good thing?” asked the boulder, giving a nudge of its own.
    â€œYes,” said the elephant.
    â€œWell, this isn’t it.”
    â€œYou don’t like the way I make the words dance?”
    â€œI’d rather sit this one out.”
    In the misty morn, he sat forlorn;
He wouldn’t adorn, the dance floor well-worn
.
    â€œOh boy,” said God.
    â€œAs you can see,” said the elephant. “I provide a lot of bon mot for each and every occasion.”
    â€œSuch a