Ren Hartland
Small Footprints
Tiny body, tiny legs. Can a question formulate in ants’ heads? Does it ever wander from its swarm? Its tiny feet presses on sunspots warm. Along the river bank and waiting there, the swarm gathers without a care. The ant scurries to catch his friends, but they are already moving away again. Little puddles of mud are left, As our ant struggles to keep with their footsteps. Then the tiny body comes to rest. As a breath escapes from his chest. Footsteps tired and in pain. And our little ant, alone again.
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