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Monday August 13th 2012, 8:42 pm“March. March. We’re marching along. The world is a very grand place, we’re marching along. Its awfully hot out today, marching along. Hmm… whats this giant wall of bright green that blocks our path? Its cut off our caravan, our good neighbors are either on the other side or crushed by this chugging thing. It sounds like booming rushing from inside. And it curves outward toward us, stretches farther than we can see to either direction, past the stalks and blooms it goes so far. Ahh!! Run! Scatter! The gushing is coming, the gushing is coming!”
Segmented and frail looking, the frailty a deception of our perception. A deep dark brown that from my vantage appears to be black until a much much closer inspection. I’m sure that my prodding is an annoyance, but they keep marching along the rubbery green tube that must seem like a perfect highway that they can march along crossing the yard, bypassing any of the pebbles that must seem as boulders, and the nooks and crannies of the dirt that must seem like tiring hills or cratered valleys. The fount from the nozzle must be like a deluge, something to fear as it creates the equivalent of a massive tidal wave flood of drowning death across the parched land. I really don’t care much about them though, only that they keep getting onto my arm, tickling the hairs. I know they are just trying to escape the onslaught that I bring to the world as I go about my very mundane task. Little tidbits is what they are, march, march, marching along.
Watering The Garden, To The Detriment Of Ants
August 13th 2012
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