The Last Monarch

Cloudy, mid-October,
     And North winds lightly stirred;
Seasons somewhat blurring
     And whirs and whistles heard.
 
I saw a monarch fly-
     ing slowly, treetop high;
No colder could it sail --
     No slower stay the sky.
 
A taller maple stalled
     This butterfly, intense,
Which toiled this day in fall
     To scale this arbor fence.
 
It climbed above the tree,
     Despite the hurdle stood,
And ne'er could mortals see
     All trees within the wood.

 

By G. Kittell
October 2007