Wooly Caterpillar

Wooly Caterpillar

I came upon you on a sidewalk,black as a hyphen slowly crossing a page,as if you were trying to connectthe last word in October with a word inthe April to come. From closer upyou looked like a casket being borneby a half-dozen soldiers walking in stepand I stopped, as one would, as you passed.Your casket was draped with the flagof your country, orange like a leaf,and there were clusters of old leaves,many in orange, curled up in lawn chairsall along the processional, younger onesrestless and darting about. I thoughtI should take off my cap and I did,and the late autumn wind in my earswas the bugle that played, not so well,as they carried you into the distance.