the tiniest of ants 
made her way back
with me from the garden

she scurried across the white Formica...
when I spilled my meager harvest onto the kitchen table

I grabbed a tissue,
corralled her, gently swathed her 
and made the short walk back 
to the berries to return her whence 
she came, safe and sound...

that's how we roll
here in the garden

cc: Chagall 2021