The great Ogden Nash once wrote
a short poem called The Termite:
“Some primal termite knocked on wood
And tasted it, and found it good!
And that is why your Cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor today.”
Although it’s nearly not as good, here’s my own
Nash-inspired meditation on another insect…
Ants trudge the earth from dusk to dawn
In conga lines a million strong…
But if they really want to dance,
They have to crawl in someone’s pants.