THE ANTS GO MARCHING � Laryalee ([email protected]) As I lift up a rock by the silvery sage, an army swarms out in diminutive rage. The first wave begins its persistent attack -- a lightweight brigade, but what fiery flack! I flee my position, my dignity rent, their tiny tenaciousness charging hell-bent. For now I retreat, but the sting of regret reminds me the battle is not over yet. Their trails of defiance lead deep underground, to covert maneuvers in catacombed mounds. This ongoing war makes me ponder our worth as we each lay a claim to our piece of the earth. And sometimes I wonder -- suppose it is true that we're merely ants, in the overall view? This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page Free search engine submission and placement services!