Magia dreamed she’d bear a laurel branch,
twig springing to full-grown tree. While walking
days later, she scurried into a ditch
near fair Mantua where—long ere writing
of pastures, sown fields, and leaders—you screamed
your first unyielding hexameter. Grown
an Augustan poet, no doubt it seemed
wise to accept the young Caesar’s summons
to praise the empire in verse. Savvy turned
you to history and mythology,
raised Aeneas to epic phrases, learned
from Homer’s heroics. Shy and sickly,
when you trekked city streets, if recognized
by loving fans, you’d quickly run and hide.
Roger Armbrust
October 13, 2008
