#LoveMadeVisible Day 16: The Gargoyle in My Garden, by Lynn Schuessler

The Gargoyle in My Garden

He hunches under his branchy bush, hugging

bare haunches, squatting in his stone-cold skin,

hiding from flurries of leaves, from bushels of snow,

from any hope of a kiss. I sometimes wonder what moved me

to carry him home, to set him outside my window 

where he watches day and night. Keener 

than word, deeper than thought, he summons the spirit 

of every season through which we’ve ever huddled—

for somewhere between those doubled-up knees 

and elfish ears he shelters secrets—the hiding

places of vineys? The magical habits of sprites?

But his silence and staring never cause harm,

only bad guesses in those who stare back.

Perhaps that’s why he hugs his knees, to guard

his heart—the only part

not stone.

Lynn Schuessler is a longtime member of SCBWI. Her love of nature has always inspired her poetry, but lately it’s her new grandson that shows her the world through his almost one-year-old eyes.