A
MATTER OF SMALL MOMENT
There having been no
announcement, The work was far advanced When I happened on the scene: Some
insect shell was underway – Head, thorax, abdomen, and wings Silently gliding,
sustained by teams Of ants intently stroking it along. It almost seemed The funeral caisson of a
king In mute procession to the tomb, Or a Venetian war trireme Measuring the
sea.
Despite
the ants’ tenacity And the roughness of the ground, From time to time sharp
gusts of wind Carried away the outer hangers-on Of the excited throng Like those
that always swarm around The edges of great undertakings. Feeling the wind beset them, They must have
just reared up, let go, And let themselves be swept away. Those that remained
Did not miss them. Steady and slow, The small cortege moved on.
But
I could not dismiss them so. They made
me think Of all the launchings I have seen: Ships, missions to the moon,
balloons.... Outfitted in yellow, red,
and blue, Brass bands blare martial music While dancers prance in Mardi-Gras
costumes; Flags flap and crackle in the wind, And ribbons stretch, and
streamers stream; The vendors of souvenirs, soft drinks, and ice cream Pop up
everywhere; Phileas Fogg and the Wizard of Oz Usurp the atmosphere.
And
then the tiny gondola swings Beneath a silken dome that swells and nods Like
some old Narnian Monopod Just come to life and visibility. Ropes creak and strain. The crowd falls still. The frail ship and its cargo sway Upward, and
slowly shrink away.
And
we turn back to work again, For all our momentary transport, Earth-bound – yet
not quite the same.
Balloons,
Oz, Phileas Fogg, and Monopods! And gondolas and triremes – Incongruities fit
for the Renaissance, That delighted in such things: For the well-designing
ministers and kings Who took advantage of The occasions and displays of state
To awe the bumptious populace, That always managed anyway To turn authoritarian
shows Into subversive play.
Perhaps
of all the things we boast To set us off from other creatures, This is the most
peculiarly human way Of behaving. It is
our nature To turn a strictly purposed thing Back on itself, to make it say
Something entirely different, and mean more Than we had thought before – Turn disciplines of iron and fire Into objects of desire, That captivate and
tease us on.
As
much as any calculation, This may save us from the fate Of the socially more
advanced: From the relentless and complete Totalitarian organization Of the
six- and the four- and the two-legged ants.
Balloon: delivery.superstock .com/WI/223/4128/PreviewComp/SuperStock_4128R-8425.jpg
Hunk: pinterest .com/pin/302444931199628233/
Hunk: pinterest .com/pin/302444931199628233/
1 comment:
Well Said.
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