When I lie on my back on the grass,
Ants use my arm as an overpass.
When I lie on my leftmost side,
The shy ones go in my ear and hide.
If I sit up to lean on a tree,
Under-back sleepers will roam free.
If I stand up and feel the warm air,
They will climb up my shin hair.
If they stay on me and I swim,
I’m an island that sinks on a whim.
If the sun shines, I’ll play with the ants,
If it doesn’t I’ll hug potted plants.
This will caterpillarize my chest,
And I’ll be all-organically well-dressed.
Sun or not, you can find some friends,
Some so small you’ll need a zoom lens.