Small Servants

Small Servants Eight legs or six…you are all bugs to me. I love you, I hate, I love to hate you. You scare me, you ware me… Yet, I seek you out. You can climb, and fly. You can swim and look like a small limb. A cane for a blind man, barely six inches tall, at all. Your colors, they are rare, fascinating, and five steps beyond belief. Rainbows cross our heavens, “their” only rival. You sting, you bite, you give us things we like. Silk robes in China, ground flavor in a cup. We eat them, they eat us. Ants, workers to learn from, busy like bees. Together, they bring down the rubble and trees. Time is their friend, it is “He” they serve. A task a reason, one and all, good , bad, indifferent… It changes by his call.