Ants   in free verse   I was walking along just as I was supposed to,   just as my kind have done for a hundred million years,   following the meandering trail of chemical scent   that some other fellow had laid out, ostensibly   leading through the forest to some unknown goodies,   a veritable pot of gold at the end of a pheromone rainbow.   So, in fact, I wasn't looking for you at all.   You tell me that you don't believe in coincidence;   I don't believe in anything but happenstance and   the chaotic juxtaposition of theretofore unrelated events.   If I called it fate, you would accuse me of insincerity,   since you are certain that I don't believe in that either.   I was walking along just as I was supposed to,   my six legs were maneuvering across a mat   of dried leaves, brittle pine needles, navigating   around rocks, yellowed mushrooms and exposed roots   of the giants towering above us. Admittedly   insignificant, that hasn't bothered me for some time.   I ran into you. I kept going because, lapses aside,   I am generally a good soldier. I try to get along   with the rest of the colony, carefully consider   my transgressions of the law so that they go unnoticed   by everyone and, as a result, from the larger perspective,   don't exist at all. In other words, I'm innocent.   The pot of gold was nothing but a stinking possum   carcass. Talk about letdowns. As I carried my hunk   of meat back, I found you again. You weren't hauling   any food. I should've known then there was something   wrong, did I say wrong, I meant, unique about you.   I should have known the troubles to expect.   You got me to wander off the path, evil temptress,   I mean liberator. You convinced me to invest   so much time, love, and energy into life with you   that the thought of leaving became a remote   impossibility. Yes exactly more or less this is   how it happened. The other possibilities are gone.   And here we are, still in the forest, wandering.   We have long ago lost the chemical scent.   Our destination peaceably unknown, our path   one of alternating warmth and chill as we move   from shadow to sunlight in the random patches   of the canopy above us. Doesn't sound too bad.   As I think about it, of all the ways of wandering,   this pathless pilgrimage with you seems the finest.