Poem : Ants

Ants running about always on the go
Their little bodies of red
Their red bodies so little
Defending their hill from footsteps of foe
Stepping not looking
Crushing their homes with shoe bottoms of force
So, make sure you don’t step on their mound
Because your foot will pay with a stinging encounter
But even after the encounter the ants will keep moving
Keep moving and wandering about
Always concerned with their neighbor’s concerns
Always in the business of their business
So the next time you’re out
Listen close to the ground
You can hear them crawling and searching
Moving through the green blades of grass
Tugging and pulling food home for their Queen
For she will always rule the mound
Energizing their works with sweet songs of singing
Making her little workers some of the strongest on earth
Lifting objects three times their size
And The Queen, The Queen, can even predict the weather
At least this is the tale the telling have told
But, I don’t know if this wise tale is true
For the Sayers say on the farm’s of The South
If it’s going to rain and the mound has been broken
The ants will not be rebuilding their home
At least not until the very next day
This is what the old farmers would say in their folktales of telling
Ants, mysteries of small always moving about
　


Published at The Camel Saloon August 11 2011