Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Fallen Leaves


If I were to close my eyes,
I would see the leaves of autumn,
Upright on their stems and side by side
Like a phalanx of fallen heroes.
Myrmidons of the season,
You appeared,
Or so it seemed,
One morning when I was not looking,
Fringing the limbs of the maple
Like the rime of an old man's beard.
When I finally took notice,
There you were at my feet
In the darkness of an afternoon
When squirrels scratched their way home.

3 comments:

Rebekah said...

"I had a vision:
There was the oak, as many-leaved as ever,
As many ants among its many branches ---
The great tree shaken by a sudden tremor
While ants dropped to the grassess at its feet,
Then seemed to grow, to stand upright, to lose
Their shadow thinness and their black complexion
In human forms...."

Cha sen said...

A different take on the transformation into Myrmidcons.

Thank you.

Paul said...

Thank you for your comment! I love Ovid, and the Metamorphoses are the fount of so much of Western poetry. Happily the web (and Cha Sen) are keeping Ovid alive.