Dance of The Ants
I sat within the morning light,
The sun eclipsed the ridge,
Warming in the chilly air,
Mind’s eye began to stare.
Silk worm dangling on its thread,
Blowing lightly in the breeze,
Sinking ever closer near,
Unrelenting to persevere.
Ill fated journey to the ground,
Near a colony of Little Black Ants,
One by one they met their prey,
Wrestling the worm, as if in play.
Twenty to one, dwarfed in size,
Worked feverishly together,
In a frenzy, to feed the rest,
Close unity, describes it best.
A stray carpenter ant happens by,
An attempt to steal the prize,
Immediately attacked; runs away,
Wisely lives, to steal another day.
An hour later, wearing down,
Exhausted from no defense,
To the Victor, Goes the Spoils,
Journey home, with many toils.
Carrying on with a steady routine,
Nonstop, throughout all the day,
Long after dark, all safely inside,
Perfect world in which to abide.
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