The Divine in ant-drag is having a micro-tiny romp on my kitchen drainboard to remind me how wholly life expresses itself.
Sugar ants go everywhere at once in some inscrutable order, regroup around the task of tugging a crumb this way — no wait, that way! — then settle on just eating it. An hour later the crumb is gone and so are they — back through a nick in the caulk. A platoon of these hyperactive lilliputians can subsist on a speck.
I’m left with no recourse but to share with the sugar ants the space I occupy. I’ve no greater rights to it than they do, says whatever it’s called that stays my hand from dialing the pest control man.
(c) 2019 JMN