Judy A. Carrier

I watched an  ant the other day

As he struggled, labored on his way

The stick he towed, a massive load

3 times this limb as the bulk of him

Forward, backward, along the sides

He steadfastly worked to move his prize

It seemed to not occur to him the length, or weight, or size

He did not falter, stop or rest

Though tired he must have been

A rock, a rut, a hilly crest

Were minor obstacles at best

And when he reached his destination

Without a thought or hesitation

He turned around and started back

To fetch the rest to make his stack