…ut redit itque frequens longum formica per agmen
granifero solitum cum uehit ore cibum... (Ovid)
Lilliputian legionnaires have taken the acropolis:
they march in endless shiny chains
on feet finer than hairs, their susurrations
teasing at the ear as whispering idea.
The new order, diminutive, methodical,
has garrisoned this site and kept it well:
seed must be gathered where it fell, and stored
in granaries, couriers despatched to distant colonies;
the columns move precisely on uneven surfaces
where Roman armies stumbled and lay still;
no hoplites moved with more finesse or skill.
Silence thin as gossamer bears imprint of activity
as scarabs roll moist balls of dung uphill
where goats browse oregano;
spiders spin the tissue of their patient days:
empires were ever dust to arachnidae.
Grasshopper sentries at their posts leap up
as giants' feet approach, but only rain lays siege
with crystal archery, ghosting inland from the sea,
perforating meditative rhythm of activity
as helots shelter cautiously, perplexed,
and history seems to waver in its tracks,
while myriad minute antennae register
the earth’s pores opening in grateful thirst.
Note: The epigraph is from Ovid's 'Ars Amatoria', Book 1, lines 93-4.
'…as a diligent ant which comes and goes in a long train,
carrying its habitual fare in its jaws for carrying grain...'