(233): Dream of Warring Ants, a Sonnet
Go easy on me, folks — this is my first sonnet.
I looked out on the great expanse ahead,
And saw the nascent mounts like little tents;
The ants have built their force while I in bed
Did lie, dreaming and replaying events
And wishes that I’ve nurtured in my breast.
Their hills lay silent in potential spread
Of strength in numbers marching east to west —
In faceless chitin warriors’ formic threads.
So wake I at the hour they go to sleep
To chart their positions and strength, their might,
Their peace they hide under the ground to keep
Until the long day fades again to night.
In twilight’s gloom the stench becomes so dire,
Til matches strike to light those ants on fire!
Note: I wouldn’t really pour fuel on ant mounds and light them on fire, but I thought it made a striking image so I used it.
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