Insect trails

And did you ever
Think before
The lines of ants
Along the floor
Where they must
Be going
In the dust
The crumbs
Were sowing
Was it sugar
Was it bread
Did their aim
Elicit dread
How much
Could each carry
Was impending
Death their worry
When an ant
Lives in society
Then each human
Soul’s notoriety
Is just his alone
While all the ants
Crawl home.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..