Colony

Little hunter in the grass,

little seeker in the sun,

little runner through the pass,

little worker not yet done.

Hear the bees that buzz above,

feel the worms that writhe below;

it’s a tiny taste of love,

and a hunger you well know.

With six legs strong and firm to stand,

your seeking heart yet beats.

And if you crawl across this hand,

you may find something sweet.

Take this, all of you, and eat of it…

If it’s a little honey that

was borrowed from the bees,

you’ll taste it, sweet, and where it’s at

you’ll find it, if you please.

And if you taste a taste so nice,

sugar sweet that’s so alive,

you wouldn’t come back more than twice

before some friends arrive.

And how to help but spread the news,

like bees in all their dance;

a tiny ant might sing the blues

if it ever had a chance.

For this is my body…

So if you show them what you’ve found,

there’s more that will arrive,

for every creature that’s around

likes most to feel alive.

There’s ways and channels all below

that crawling creatures dug;

I do not look, and barely know,

and hide them ‘neath the rug.

And if I fear some little ants,

and shudder as they pass,

it isn’t that they’re in my pants,

I simply fear the mass.

Which will be given up for you.