Letting Go

A rat came to the bird feeder yesterday morning and I didn't groan inwardly but thought, "I'm leaving in a week or two; you're no longer my responsibility." I thought the same about the brambles that tried to trip me up in the lower field...

A Centaur In Its Dragon World

There was an ant walking across the lid of the bread bin. Just the one. Do ants hibernate? I don't know, but you don't see them in the house in winter so I take their reappearance as yet another sign of spring.

("The ant's a centaur in its dragon world," wrote Ezra Pound.)

I picked this one up and helped it outside. It'll be back- or its comrades will. I've never figured how they get into the house, but I suppose there may be multiple entry points. The ant senses food- because its senses are super senses compared to ours- then follows the resonance down a crack in the wall- like a caver, like a spelunker. It has no fear but goes where it has to go, speeding along on its six little legs, in service to the collective...

Ants are brilliant.