Anthill

Anthill An army of wood ants , In Swiss Jura Mountains, Lift up the mighty leaf Overhead,to feed The queen, a fairy , labors in her womb The males carry thin paper wings, too Female workers go without The queen populates the colony and makes nests Which guards protect Against those who wish to expand their empire or have a feast Fighting even until death Workers watch over the eggs and brood, forage food And build anthills Strange mounds Low hills and small mountains Inhabit tunnels and chambers Hibernating wood ants under twig, branch and needles in rough winter days and nights Spring melts the bitter frost Thousands emerge from their resting place Bathe under the sun Toasty with warmth Energized, ready for work They’re great beasts when bound together Vibrations underfoot are echos to their ears Rival ants , Beatles, bees, caterpillars , spiders, All get a spritz of acid All to be consumed Queen consummates with males And clip off their wings Like those of flies Leaving them scattered To be taken by the wind They die of hunger and exhaustion The queen looks into expansion Battling and killing small field ants under a rock She conquers and some submit to her majesty A queen’s dream: total domination Others dare tear her apart Marckincia Jean Narrative 10/02/19