Look , but be totally still.
Three dark ants navigate through
a maze of August-dried needles
without an apparent purposeful goal
to the eyes of the old woman watching.
She cannot imagine their entire small world
contained on this one stone wall.
Nor can they fathom being watched as they work
by a creature so large as this human.
In the darkening sky
a light of least resistance
emerges from seemingly nothing
blinks once,
then pauses,
then blinks once again
before closing its wings by the stone.
Look, but be totally still at dusk
as the dark spots of the day
hug the light spot of night
in the Tao of the ants and the firefly.
This poem is a revised version of a poem posted September 5, 2015 on Wind Rush.
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