1 of 52

by Laura Leigh Fields

The human race is a lot like ants,
in a way we can not truly understand.
Our homes are our own personal mounds of dirt.
They are tiny markers in the land.

We all want to survive.
We do what we can to eat.
We struggle to get through the world
and stand on our two own feet.

We all scurry about,
just like little ants.
We secretly hope we don't get squashed,
that we will get a chance.

We gather what we need.
We change our habits when it is cold.
We keep marching in line,
trying to do what we are told.

No matter how big or small
or obsolete things may be.
There is another obstacle
that the eyes couldn't first see.

Just like a determined ant,
we can reach our goals.
Little by little,
we can form our holes.

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Poetry: Ant hills

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by Laura Leigh Fields

The human race is a lot like ants,
in a way we can not truly understand.
Our homes are our own personal mounds of dirt.
They
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Ant hills and sugar trails
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Lemonade sold at a stand
Castles built in the sand
Popsicles turning
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Blanket on a hill
Bucket of ice with wine inside
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Laid across the landscape
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"War Declared"

I watch the line of soldiers carry
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Back and forth they run their course
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Poetry: Ant hills

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Poetry: Ant hills

by Laura Leigh Fields

Poetry: Ant hills

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