by Jon Coe

Created on: June 11, 2008

Black specks, pepper treks, across my floor
one by one, they follow in legion, to the door
Marching forth, intent on purpose preordained
chemically communicating, centurion's accolade

Peanut sitting on the floor, machinery set to render
organic structures, tools intact, ants in mighty splendor
Disembark, cutting, sawing, gnawing with their teeth
drone of thousands, duty calls, to carry every piece

Human feet will step, crushing hundreds, few
no match for ant kingdom, millions replacing, new
Robotic, trained and faultless, without much comparison
metropolis of the ant, living in their garrison

The purpose of the ant, may seem a little askew
scientists, biologists, have studied their point of view
But please take note, this society works for us
God's creation, recycling waste and little specks of dust

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