Poem 47

 

There are ants in the house

In the yard;

In the grass;

In the street;

In the driveway;

Scouting everywhere

For water;

For food;

For friends;

One assumes –

But:

No one ever sees

Ants stopped to chat

Like your aunt or uncle.

Maybe they only deal with basics.

Too small to engage in real conversation

We may never ever know.