carrying sugar

a long line
of ants, black soldiers,
carrying
what looks like sugar
spilled
out of my kitchen,
off the floor
is not bothered
by the vibration of my
feet, nor
me bending over
to take
a closer look. they have
work to do.
they are unafraid, of
the broom or spray.
death has no meaning
for them.
it's about this.
about living life
to the fullest.
carrying sugar until
it ends.