Red Admirals (A Poem)

In twenty-twelve

The Red Admirals marched into town and occupied

Our Crimson King Maple,

The truest red maple on the block – having ruled,

Immobile, in the neighbourhood

Twenty or thirty years

And part of a family tree going back to

Eighteen Sixty-Nine,

But the old king was ruled by the wanderers,

In a single revolutionary population boom,

Vanessa Atalanta, for one afternoon imitated foliage

And we still look for them every spring


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