My Weariness of Epic Proportions

I like it when

Achilles

Gets killed

And even his buddy Patroclus --

And that hothead Hector --

And the whole Greek and Trojan

Jeunesse doree

Are more or less

Expertly slaughtered

So there’s finally

Peace and quiet

(The gods having momentarily

Shut up)

One can hear

A bird sing

And a daughter ask her mother

Whether she can go to the well

And of course she can

By that lovely little path

That winds through

The olive orchard.