Ants

 

Ants

 

By the top of a muck grey concrete post

that supports his tasteless five foot fence

erected some time ago to mark borders

perch a pitch of blackbirds.

 

Others must have heard.

 

Whatever it is that blackbirds sing,

that tune was not backwards in bringing

more of the blighters here,

plummeting from the summer sky

and cocking a jealous eye

at those with pole position.

 

Next door’s oblivious, of course.

I’ve seen his like, they’re everywhere,

shuffling slippers, cultivating weeds,

hanging out his spread sheets to bleed

after a lifetime spent ticking boxes.

 

Me? Well, I’m curious, so I take a butcher’s.

 

Upstairs, watching this avian show

having a dekko, as you do,

so that’s me making stairs creak

and, in the living room, half asleep,

that’s her - watching an annual pop festival.

Crowds, like ants, shot from above,

gobbing off about peace and love,

while in the adjacent fields – more sheep.

 

So, I’m close enough to take a peep -

there’s a stream of black - translucent wings

and for miles around blackbirds sing

about a kind of ant that flies and stings,

shovelling millions into ravenous beaks

whilst you see ants still struggling upwards

to the top from the bottom of their hill –

dry your tears, dears - only a few will fly.

 

And I’m thinking - you live, you die.

 

Whilst right now, going out live,

120 miles north as the blackbird flies,

there’s some similar hue and cry

when performers take to the stage,

nothing friendly in fading light,

waving flags, spouting hip hop politics - 

my family and other shite

and they don’t understand most of it.

 

Lapping it up, more actual ants,

who struggled here from their camps,

toting champagne in handcarts,

and latter filling those bottles with piss

to dispose of with a sustainable kiss -

paid a small fortune in catharsis.

 

And maybe some might climb the Tor.

 

Not a sort of audience to shirk,

tomorrow they’ll turn up for work

tick boxes, fill spreadsheets,

something totem, climbing poles -

podcast footage took on mint cellphones,

because in a flock you’re not alone:

so let’s have our water cooler moment.

 

Cheers.

 

Here’s to taking flight from monuments.