One ant keeps climbing
Up my bare leg as I sit
On this old airport
Grass grows as high as
Childrens’ eyes, or mine, looking
Out from this blanket
From a spot I could
Simply not have sat it was
Impossible some
Years before, this here
Was forbidden to me, was
Private, in conflict,
Occupied. I was
Not allowed, though now its so
Simple, natural.
As natural as
These wild flowers blooming next
To sun bleached grasses
As natural as
This ant crossing onto my
Blanket, up my legs.