Who's
Coming?
A little
ant sat upon his hill
as oft
times little ants will.
He sat
there watching a big old fly
as it went
zooming right on by.
Why is
he in such a darned hurry?
Why the
troubled look of worry?
The squirrels
were busy in their nests
packing
up nuts in their storage chests.
There was
a strange silence in the air.
There were
no birds singing anywhere.
Where are
all the critters today?
It looks
like most have gone away.
A butterfly
came fluttering by.
"Where
are you all going and why?"
The ant
cried out from his hill,
"Please
answer me, if you will."
The butterfly
kept right on going;
he wasn't
stopping or even slowing.
A buzzing
bee at last was seen;
his buzzing
broke up the quiet scene,
"He's coming!
He's coming! Get inside!
It's time
for us all to run, hide!
Get your
children into your hive
if you
want them all to survive."
"Who's
coming", the ant asked, "who,
has created
such a hubbub and todo?"
The grass
began to wave all about.
The wind
began to scream and shout,
"He's coming!
Get yourself up and away.
He's coming!
He'll be here today."
The puzzled
little ant began to cry,
"Who's
coming? Who's coming and why?"
The wind
said, "Little ant get inside.
Close up
your hill and then hide.
The autumn
now is going away
and Nasty
John will be here today.
He'll nibble
your ears and nip your nose.
He'll bite
your hands and sting your toes.
He's a
mean old man, so they say.
That's
why we're all going away
You must
get yourself down inside.
You must
stay in there and hide.
All winter
long he'll be around.
You won't
be safe out of the ground.
Until you
hear the spring birds call
you must
stay down under it all.
If you
venture out any too soon
you won't
be around to see next June."
"John will
get you if your come out.
That is
why I scream and shout!"
"Why didn't
someone tell me before?
I must
get in and close my door."
The little
ant crept into his hill
and then
the hole began to fill.
When it
was sealed good and tight
he went
to sleep for a winter's night
and none
too soon, I've been told.
For that
night was awfully cold,
and all
around on the grass was seen
Jack Frost 
and
his sparkling sheen!
circa
1973
Who's
Coming? was originally written as a
story
poem for my children when they were little.
copyright
Betty Lee 1999-2001
