Ode to an Ant

Photo by Jenny Chambers on Unsplash

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In honor of what I have dubbed the “Summer of the Ant,” I hereby present my Ode to an Ant.

I marvel at the industrious ant.
What he can do, I know I can't.

From dawn to dusk he's on his feet
In search of tasty things to eat.

All hustle and bustle, every which way,
His labor permits not the slightest delay

As constantly moving and constantly striving
He plays his small role in the colony's thriving.

A communicator extraordinaire,
He encounters his friends with his nose in the air,

And brushing antennae, with nary a sound,
He signals just where the best food's to be found.

Dubbed by philosophers a political beast
Disharmony knoweth he not in the least.

Excavator, urban planner,
Hoisting aloft the formican banner,

He implacably spreads his empire's bounds,
Tirelessly searching out ever new grounds.

But permit me to register one reservation
About the developing anthill nation:

As in search of new lands the ants ceaselessly roam,
I wish they would do it outside of my home.

In Nature's virgin territory
I begrudge not the ants their imperial glory--

But not in my kitchen, nor under my bed,
Not in my closet should they seek to spread,

Not under the sink or up on the ceiling,
Lest there rise up in me a most passionate feeling

Of hatred for ants, the whole tribe, one and all,
Of every species, the great and the small.

The ants' great extinction will fill all my dreams,
And I'll begin plotting my murderous schemes.

I'll set out my traps and my poison and ant bait,
And then I will sit back and patiently wait.

And if that doesn't work--why then, just a bit later,
I might even summon the exterminator.

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