The Little Boy

The little boy's inquisitive eyes capture the scene at his feet below
where scurrying red ants go about their little lives
on the damaged dirt mound above the freshly cut grass.

He smiles watching the many rebuilding the nest
that go immediately on attack
when a cricket aimlessly jumps into their frenzied swarm.

Mesmerized by these little things relentless instinct to defend what is theirs,
the little boy hardly notices the first sting on his shoeless feet
and jumps with a brief yelp of pain when the second sting is felt.

Quickly neutralizing the few remaining attackers on his skin,
he returns to observing the drama
now a little further away, but easily still seen.

Then thunder softly heard makes the little boy look up,
searching the sky for what might come next
and ruin his time with the ants.

He sees the black edge of clouds approaching
and feels the once gentle breeze become a strong gusty wind,
ruffling his already unruly hair and swaying the nearby trees.

Glancing back down on the first wet drop felt,
the little boy makes a mental note to return after the rain,
as his interest is now all about the storm arriving from above.

The first flash of lightening against the dark sky reminds him of fireworks
until another bright flash much closer
sends him running to the safety of the porch,
where he wonders if the ants have done the same in their nest
and if the cricket will still be there after the storm.

David G. Bancroft
Copyright 2006
All Rights Reserved

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