02 August 2016

Ant Sense

Its said memories which remain with you are the 
red-letter days you’d be lost without - maybe not 
leastways any wiser, yet differences it’d make to 
shyness dressed in those early years conspires 
to prevent erasure; remember peeing on ants at 
th’ roadside, awaiting the next vehicle you might 
chance a ride with; well - it became a celebrated 
poem you never guessed would touch readers 

Tho unless they experienced a similar loneliness 
on an empty road and sense of despair, chances 
weren’t too pretentious; and there’s the key, ants 
scurrying busily didn’t care, it’s as if what matters 
elsewhere isn’t their concern - until they’re nearly 
drowned - and hearken to greater happenstance 

I didn’t dream its sequence, but the next sedan 
stopped without any tribulation - we’d rapport it 
seems - both alone on a lonely highway - and I, 
clearly a young student on the thumb; or was it 
the ant’s scheme to rid themselves of my heed - 
well - whatever, it worked a charm for us each 

So to this day I remind myself a lesson - where 
impending focus is on despairing failure - bear 
toward a devil-may-care quality including more 
into the single continuum where we’re queued 
for benefits without isolation; and there are the 
ant’s rendering sense to any mystical equation 
© 2 March 2016, I. D. Carswell