In the low hanging morning orange sun
ant shadows stretched long across the sidewalk cement
and I stopped to admire the military unison
of the dark working shapes,
and suddenly understood their point:
work to not think.
For if the ants took a moment to think about their situation
they might not ever leave their ant hill again.
But they don't,
and I will do the same today.
Wrappy and swirly
went me and the girly,
walking shores,
ignoring our chores,
living for the next kiss,
and off the last one.
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
