Ant Hill

I am not a mountain,

I whispered to an ant
who’d climbed my shadow.
My right arm was a drawbridge
back to nature you won’t see
on Rachel Maddow.
But ants will not be waylaid,
and in moments it was back
and with a friend.
There must be something up there.
Ants believe,
but it is seldom they pretend.

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I'm a writer living in Massachusetts.