Green ants in formation, charming everyone of them,
They're tickling each other and laughing at the oddities
That the sunshine casts on the trees and the earth
And the beaks of the birds who are whistling over head.
Long ago the birds and the ants reconciled their differences
And the murder stopped as quickly as the wind sweeps up the leaves.
The nest was a great cave inside a tree trunk
With infinite tunnels going in all directions, even up.
In the middle at there was an alter on which sat
An exhaustive library of recipe books with countless
Recipes for twig broth and earthworm goulash.
Delish! Occasionally a blue bird'll force its way in,
Thrashing about and disturb the order of the books,
But inevitably he'll calm down and exit apologetically.
These things cant be helped.
Inside your smile are a hundred future memories we are yet to make.
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