Wounded black ants
marching towards their fortress
built with silt and what not
carrying the rock like sugar
on their bare backs, beaten
by their boisterous seniors
the queen ant is dead
announced the old hag
an outcry, followed by tension
sugar blocks dumped onto the dusty ground
a revolt, an invigorating coup.
whips snatched from the senior insects
a palpable ray of hope, a revolution.
humiliated red ants, defeated in the winter war
joined the peasant blacks
an army of death, marching onto
the senior black head clan
it was when, a cloud of darkness
swallowed them in whole
leaving the agitated minuscules
in the worst stampede of insect history.
I realised, I walked past them
while shooing away, the hungry sparrows
-