Ant People
I left a bowl of food on a table outside only
to find it swarming with ants when I returned.
Annoyed, I washed it with the hose, pushing
scrambling ant bodies to the ground as they
dashed over my hands. Ouch, I cried when
one of them bit me at the crook of my arm.
I smashed him.
Why did you do that? I asked myself as I
finished cleaning the bowl. I felt contrite.
As evening fell, I broke a cookie into pieces,
asked forgiveness and scattered the crumbs
where I knew their underground nests were.
The next morning every bit was gone,
my offering accepted.
Later, I ate outside again, leaving behind a
piece of fruit and muffin crumbs for them to
share. When I returned, three sentinel ants
stood guard around the food. No other ant
had ventured inside the line the guard’s bodies
made. This remarkable gesture of regard
still humbles me.
3 thoughts on "Ant People"
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“humbles me.”
There it is — the “heart” of the poem. It is foreshadowed with your contrition. Very relateable.
Thank you for sharing this!
Oh wow, what an image of respect!
Thank you both for your comments 🤗