I worry about ants
I worry that I squash ones that I don't see
I worry about the ones that walk on to me and I blow away
Where do they end up
What is the fall and landing like
How will they get home
I worry about the one on the top of the hob ring that I didn't see in time
It ran left it ran right then it ran and leapt into a wall of blue flame a hundred ants high becoming a spark a flare and a cinder
I worry about that one when I wake up at night
I worry most about that one