Seeing the ants march
Four by four
Twelve by twelve
An army
A river
A stream of chocolate
Melting in the sun
It can make you pause

Pause like a warm breeze
Ruffling the pages of a book
Look up
Look down
A moment
A sacred moment
Nothing but the patter of leaves in the breeze
and a river of chocolate brown ants

Ants melt into estuaries
Into raging seas
The pavement turns brown
Heaving leaves
The waves swallow us up
A turbid cloud enshrouds our eyes
A flickering moment
A dream?
Neat concrete lines
Neat ant armies
Neat piles of brown leaves
Back in place

The deep sea within
Rages up
Rages down
Outside the leaves
Are turning brown
The colour of every paint
Blended carelessly on the palette
Toothless urges for change
The wind will take them
Where they must go

Shadows lengthen
New and unknown shapes
Heads of many faces
Worry settles in
My constant companion
Cinches the space
Between my brows
As if frowning
Will change anything
As if a tight jaw and a distracted mind
Ever made the world a better place

The leaves smell sweet and dry
Crunch on the sidewalk
The ants go marching
Through the cracks
And up garden walls
With purpose
Such enviable purpose

I kick leaves up
I kick leaves down
So many situations
That I can do nothing about
The ants are marching
The leaves are brittle husks
White is the sky
Sweet blue just out of sight
Masked by a veil of ivory cloud