Ants At The Picnic

a poem by Linda Bates Terrell, USA

A reunion,
Cakes and pies to put the weight on,
Our picnic became crowded,
To think,
I passed up going to a new flick,
For this?
I should have made an excuse and said I was sick,
But instead,
I came with Uncle Fred,
I sit down on a nearby wooden bench,
All these bugs make me flinch,
Ahhhh, a long drink of Lemonaide,
There's Susie Lou,
Haven't seen her since third grade,
My thirst to quinck,
Lemonaide so sour,
my lips tighten,
As if twisted by a wrench.

My eyes gazed down,
Upon the dry hard ground.
Sadly, I watched,
So sadly I frowned,
Yes I seen,
Several little ants cluttering near me,
I wondered if they were after me,
They all gathered together,
Crawling crawling,
In the dry hot weather,
One by one,
They hustled in a row,
Ha, ha, he, he,
Walking over my sandal,
Then my big toe.

They surely may,
They surley must,
Smell the sugary aroma,
This dry hot sunny day.
Or maybe,
Yes, just maybe,
The sweet smell of Aunt Puddin's home made sweet pickles,
Their little noses it possibly tickles.

It must,
Yes, it truly must,
Cause them to decorate our table cloth,
Like tiny little freckles,
In a long long, row,
Waiting for off with it, they would tow.

So if you have a reunion picnic,
Just stop and think,
Who all is invited,
Or just take a few minutes to wonder,
Those little ant's ancestors may have,
Yes, just may have,
Visited your Great Great Grandpa's reunion too
about 100 years ago.

Linda Terrell
June 12, 2009

Just a silly poem!
Who invites ants to a reunion.
They are not even members of the family.
No time do they have to sit and gossip of their relation, Hard work all day they patiently master. They just drop in for the food and fun.

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