a line of ants

the ants
come in during the night.

a quiet march.

small dots
of black with legs and arms,
things too
small to take notice of.

but life of
some sort.

no tools in hand.
no proclamation, or
mission statement.
but they're here doing
what ants do.

what to do?
brush them away.

a wet cloth, a hand,
a spray.

they don't know what
they've gotten themselves
into.