Miami – Fate

I watch little black ants
in a busy line
crumbs like boulders.
They shape their vision of the world
like goliaths,
and yet their lives are fragile.

I lift one on my fingertip.
So crushable,
I almost kill it.
A benevolent ant god
I set it back on the path
into the sun, out of the sun
across sticks and leaves on the ground.

I look up through the branches of the tree sheltering me
at the pale egg blue
of the sky.
Who’s fingertip do I rest on?
How benevolent are my Gods?
Will I be set back on my path
or crushed on casual whim?