It took us years to train the giants.
At first, it was the order of things –
for centuries they had been fond of smashing us
with but a single step, or – as the rhyme goes –
breaking our bones to make their bread.
They had to be taught their past behaviors
were no longer acceptable: the world
had moved on. After our agreement,
still, they did some backsliding –
but each year less, fewer of our citizens
made into bread, fewer crushed or flattened.
We held our breath, practiced temperance.
Eventually, they learned to become
facile woodsmen, clearers of land,
movers of rock, raisers of rooves,
painters of upper stories. One giant
was replacement for an entire work party
of tiny us. The giants slowly grew
to value the work, to understand our appreciation.
They were happy with their opportunities.
Their lives integrated with ours.
For our part, we continued to believe
they were real.