Ants trail up the shepherd’s hook
under the shade tree
outside the bedroom window
hypnotized by the scent
of a sugary water concoction
mixed for ruby-reds to fatten up
before their September journey south;
Miso the cat is on look out-
still, paws on the sill
ready to advance on
the needle-nosed morsels,
who chirp and flutter
just outside the screen.
At night, all is quiet.
As morning arrives, the blind opens-
Miso jumps to the tower
to site her target-
the nectar’s brew master,
in horror, sees the feeder
has become an ant tomb-
sugar bloated bodies float
after a Kamikaze dive of glory.
Rest in peace little ant-scouts,
bon voyage my tiny, feathered delights-
may your next campaign
avoid any casualties in flight.