Friday, January 3, 2014

Vermilion Ants

A red brook flows alone all day
Silent yet so trepidly busy
That it fails to falter on uneven
Stones and rushes down
To some unknown unchartered map.

Through nooks and crevices
One notes it's devices
To overcome all hurdles
It stoops to bargain
Over a sugary corn lane
Intricately dividing it's cleave.

Vermilion streak in a line
On the paths of silver shine
The business of existence.

One wonders whether love or pain
Or memory, so loved to regain
Cross those incessant minds.
A closer look then does reveal,
That trunk to trunk they do appeal
As if a talk in kiss.

The ants show us in trembling forms
Of lives lived alone, forlorn,
Across miles of distance.
O such that we'd walk so close
And touch our hearts with 
Silly pose, turning the
Streets vermilion!

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