Ants
By Lynn Ascrizzi
This morning, after last night’s
thunderstorms and torrents of rain,
I watch black ants hurry along
damp boards, on the open porch.
I love their hasty, stop-and-go
movements, how they hug and kiss
each other, antennae
to antennae, as they meet.
I used to think it served biology only –
this habit of touching feelers –
just a simple relay of tribal codes,
a way to broadcast top headlines
of Colony News, with up-to-the-minute
stories of “fatals” on thorny stems,
obits on moles and grasshoppers,
toad alerts and forecasts of frost.
But now, I see their mutual affection,
the joy in each wired greeting,
how each belongs to each
and to the whole, how communicating
is part of love – how love
loves to communicate.
Send questions/comments to the editors.
Success. Please wait for the page to reload. If the page does not reload within 5 seconds, please refresh the page.
Enter your email and password to access comments.
Hi, to comment on stories you must . This profile is in addition to your subscription and website login.
Already have a commenting profile? .
Invalid username/password.
Please check your email to confirm and complete your registration.
Only subscribers are eligible to post comments. Please subscribe or login first for digital access. Here’s why.
Use the form below to reset your password. When you've submitted your account email, we will send an email with a reset code.