Ant’s Hut

The mother weaver ant
stands silently
in its hut-
the queen is rubbing its chin
with its antennae;
thoughtless for the moment.
Two of its scions are resting
folding their hind legs
stretching their fore legs
drawing their heads inside.
Leafy walls on all sides
leafy roof, leafy floor
look like mud-floored hut,
a lull in the noon, peaceful.
Daughters seek direction, even in rest;
forever workers.
The queen ant sniffs, releases pheromone-
for the move next
they wait.