04-05-2014, 09:21 AM
The Ant and the Chrysalis an Aesop Fable
Along a patch of forest floor a giant strides
(well, giant for an ant) past a chrysalis and stops
and not familiar yet with seasons or their chrysalides
he ponders, pokes it with a leg, then hops
back. “What poor sad thing is this? It cannot climb
the highest trees like me, it cannot run
through grass or skitter through the dirt for fun,
can only lay, a prisoner to its shell.” In time
his travels bring him by that way again
to find a dried and vacant husk. “Now all
that’s left is just this shell. “ A butterfly
shades him from overhead and then
flies off. He stay there feeling less - but why?
A giant for an ant but still quite small
Along a patch of forest floor a giant strides
(well, giant for an ant) past a chrysalis and stops
and not familiar yet with seasons or their chrysalides
he ponders, pokes it with a leg, then hops
back. “What poor sad thing is this? It cannot climb
the highest trees like me, it cannot run
through grass or skitter through the dirt for fun,
can only lay, a prisoner to its shell.” In time
his travels bring him by that way again
to find a dried and vacant husk. “Now all
that’s left is just this shell. “ A butterfly
shades him from overhead and then
flies off. He stay there feeling less - but why?
A giant for an ant but still quite small