Every Picnic Needs a March

No picnic can be called complete

without a little army

that strides in march-step

when the burgers

and fried chicken

are set out for munching.

Mom screams when she

sees little critters strutting 

straight towards us.

But I’m ok, hip-hip-hooray, 

there’s much less food 

to put away when 

ants come join our picnic.

published in Medusa's Kitchen