Id see that
the remnants
of what once
was fiery blaze
Has now
seemed
to have been smothered.
I would notice
that
there was no movement
on the once
lively log.
That
the home
of the once
peaceful ants
was now
quiet,
empty,
no more.
A mere shell
and
a ghost
of once used to be.

I would see
this.
And without a thought,
i would
once again
set the log ablaze.

Id light the fire.
And id see
the ants
that might have
slept
through
the first calamity,
And i would wish them the best.

One of us.
One of us.
One of us.
One of us.
STRANGER!
Killkillkillkill;
Warwarwarwar;
EXTERMINATE!

In seeing,
as a child,
breathing blinded.

As we fail to remember,
what we want,
and need at that moment.

We are greedy as ants,
following the path,
striving for the same leaf.

We are small,
humbled by blue sky,
and the night stars.

Only then we remember,
who we really are.

When I was a child I thought about wind.
Where did it come from, how did it begin?
Was it caused, at all, by the waving of the trees?
Was the waving of the trees, caused by the breeze?

I still to this day, remember thinking many things.
As a child my mind pondered, how do birds use their wings?
How and why, do rabbits hop,
Why do fish swim and firecrackers pop?

Ants are plum crazy, how they dig in the dirt,
I wear my pants but my sister wears a skirt?
Why does it rain and why are you sad?
Does the light switch frighten away all the bad?

Now that I’m older I still think alot.
The problem now seems...  oh ****, I forgot!

Brian Hill - 2019 - February
Inspired by the mind of my young brain..

When you snap a dry twig
you'll find a star inside.
White within beige in brown bark.
No, really. Have you ever looked?
Helicopter seeds have waxed, peel-able layers.
Dandelions have bumps, fossa, tails.
Pick them. Find the white sap oozing out.
Did you ever roll a bug?
Did you ever see another's fluorescent glow?
Remove an acorn hat next fall.
Remember that creamy, perfect nugget and roll
it over in your fingers. Pretend you're a squirrel.
Examine butterfly dust under the microscope
of your spring season soul.
Fold a thick line of crab grass between two thumbs.
Listen to your music, composer.
Where do ants get their perfectly identical pebbles?
Stacked so professionally into tiny, *****, domes.
Have you ever looked?

Red ants crawl up my skin
biting away what’s left
I thought I was fine by now
I thought I wasn’t scared of ants anymore

My breathings gone hard
Eyelids daring to close at anytime
I can’t go now
but I can’t let them take all of it away

I can't.