Thank goodness I am not an ant! It’s not the work I’d hate;
Nor is it being subservient to others that would grate.
It’s not that I’d have many legs,
or have to carry big ant eggs,
or start life as a maggot I berate.

Another fear, quite subtle, would fill my tiny head;
a worry that would keep me up at night in my ant bed,
which would turn my feelers grey
if I were Formicidae.
It’s the creature called an Ant lion that I dread.

I know that ant lions have to eat, in that, they're just like me
I know they're just a larvae (though some folks say larvee),
I don't resent the things pupating,
But what I do find really grating,
Is the nasty way that ant lions get their tea.

The Ant lion though tiny, is a hungry little creature
its’ oval shaped with massive jaws and no redeeming feature.
It digs a cone shaped ant lion pit
in a nice dry sandy bit
and there it waits and hopes that it will meetcha.

Now I would be a clumsy ant, I know that for a fact,
As a man agility is what I've always lacked.
I'm sure that I'd be out alone,
fall helplessly into the cone,
and struggling in the sand I'd be attacked.

I’ve nightmares that I’m thrashing in the ant lions sandy lair,
the sides are caving in- my god there’s something under there!
and then the jaws of death
squeeze shut and take away my breath,
I’m dragged beneath the sand in deep despair.

I’m not an ant. I’m bigger, and the ant lion is no threat,
in my next incarnation though, I could be smaller yet.
So I’ll treat my fellow man,
just as kindly as I can,
-in case the lords of Kharma don’t forget.
©Alexander Dudley- not to be reproduced without written permission.