The Playground

by Annssib

I watched a colony of ants,
Their nest shattered,
Eggs scattered,
By what, to them, must have seemed
A natural catastrophe.

The first priority was the next generation.
How they slaved,
Eggs saved,
The recovery seemed so chaotic
Yet so organised.

Paths crossed, re-crossed, intertwined,
The eggs un-spilt,
Nest rebuilt.
Routine returned to normal, waiting
For the next pointed stick.

It had begun to rain;
The stick dropped,
Hoods flopped
Over happy round faces as mothers
Rushed forward unfolding umbrellas.