What We Could Do

The summer the ants came,
our house was open
and they entered
without invitation
or fear—one steady line,

a million legs marching
along the cupboard's edge,
harvesting crumbs
we could not see.

We stepped lightly,
brushed small bodies
from our shins
with impatience,
shut the doors,
twitched and chanted
in our sleep

and, having arrived
at the party
too late, we watched
such busy industry
and waited
for the first hard frost.