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AFTER THE ICE WINE HARVEST |
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| MIDNIGHT SNACK
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Ants on the kitchen counter
Stop/Start rotate-search,
antennae-feel
like aimless
remote control cars
guided by a three-year-old.
Two bump blindly
oh excuse me and move on.
Beside some empty Mason jars
ten have discovered an oasis
of invisible sticky spill,
and form a meditation ring
of stillness
on the spot, humming
a harvest mantra.
Another discovery,
ant-miles away,
near the old peanut butter jar
filled with almonds and walnuts:
two milk cookies left at the bottom
of a torn away cellophane wrapping.
Something major here, calling for reinforcements,
enough to sustain civilisation
for another million years.
Cargoes of crumb are carted
by drunken pirates
to the corner behind the cutting board.
Others stay behind
to extract their fill of the booty,
sucking on a cookie, motionless.
As I would have done:
just let it melt into softness
in my mouth.
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from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski |
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