Category: MARCHES

FEINTED MARCH

Under the unrelenting glare of a parched sun, the scientists stood solemnly over the cracked earth, eyeing the devastation wrought by an unforgiving drought that had silenced a once-thriving ant colony. The ground lay littered with the husks of dead ants, their brittle, blackened bodies curling inward, resembling smoldering flames extinguished by an invisible hand. Where foraging trails and bustling mounds once pulsed with life, only stillness remained, the ants’ final struggle etched into the scorched soil. The researchers’ faces tightened with a mix of awe and sorrow, their instruments hovering over the scene, capturing–a tableau of nature’s indifference painted in the ashen remnants of a lost world.

smothered flame—
in the withered grass
only the sight of crushed ants

FEVERISH MARCH

In the sunlit common room of the nursing home, a cluster of residents gazed out the window at a swarming mass of red ants spilling across the cracked patio, their restless tide stirring a quiet unease. Hands fidgeted with blanket edges and murmurs grew sharp as the ants stormed forward, cutting through brittle grass with ferocious intent, their fiery bodies a stark contrast to the gray stillness within. The residents’ breaths quickened, anxiety prickling their spines, yet a strange warmth crept into their frail frames—perhaps a flicker of forgotten vigor sparked by the ants’ relentless energy. Eyes darted between the swelling chaos and one another, caught between dread and an odd, fleeting heat.

rising fever
red ants’ shadows stretch long
in the nursing home

FLICKERING MARCH

Perched on scuffed knees at the edge of the yard, the child’s wide eyes sparkled with delight as a swarming mass of red ants erupted from the soil, their frantic dance mirroring the rise and fall of flames licking at an invisible pyre. Each tiny body blazed with purpose, scurrying in bursts of crimson that flickered and flared across the dirt, captivating the child like a fire’s hypnotic glow. Then, as the ants streamed outward, their numbers swelled into a vivid red river, surging thick and bold before thinning into delicate trickles that snaked toward the grass. The child clapped, breathless with awe, caught in the spectacle of nature’s fiery, flowing chaos.

sometimes like a flame
other times like a red river…
congregating red ants

GATHERED BLUE MARCH

From a quiet perch on a weathered bench, the observer watched the blue ants in their ceaseless dance: swarming in iridescent clusters around a crumbling curb, nesting in the shadowed crevices of uprooted pavement, and foraging with meticulous greed across the sparse city grasses. Their tiny forms shimmered like fragments of a shattered sea, each movement a pulse of life rippling through the urban stillness. Hours slipped by unnoticed, the ants’ tireless rhythm holding the observer captive, until at last they rose, legs stiff from sitting, and turned to leave. As they walked away, the image lingered—the ants’ relentless surge mirroring waves crashing against a shore, an endless tide of purpose breaking upon the world’s rough edges.

blue wave—
all the blue ants left behind
gathering

NAVAL MARCH

In the quiet expanse of the meadow, a sudden rush of blue ants surged upward from the blades of grass, their shimmering bodies glinting like sapphires in the sunlight. Like waves crashing upon a shore, they spilled over the green tips in relentless, rhythmic swells, a tide of tiny legs and twitching antennae flooding the earth. Each blade bent under their weight, swaying as if caught in an ocean’s pull, while the ants flowed onward, a living current driven by some unseen force. Their movement was both chaotic and synchronized, a restless dance of nature’s smallest soldiers, overwhelming the stillness with their vibrant, unstoppable advance.

for a while i listened to it
the sound of a blue wave
throngs of blue ants

SCRAWLING BLUE MARCH

Amid the concrete sprawl of the city, a storming horde of blue ants descended upon the patchy urban grasses, their mandibles slicing through the tender blades like miniature scythes. With relentless precision, they carved a path through the overgrown tufts sprouting from cracked sidewalks and neglected lots, leaving behind a wake of shorn green stubs. Their shimmering azure bodies surged forward in a disciplined frenzy, undeterred by the towering shadows of buildings, as they pressed toward the distant forest. The city’s edges trembled under their advance, the grasses falling like felled timber, until the ants breached the urban fringe, drawn inexorably to the wild embrace of the trees beyond.

blue rain—
swarming blue ants rise
through blades of grass

PLUNGING MARCH

Spotting an infestation of white ants—termites—crawling across the glass of one’s home window is like catching the sudden, unexpected sight of winter snowflakes swirling against the pane. The termites, with their pallid, almost translucent bodies, creep in a disjointed flurry, their delicate forms resembling snowflakes caught in a gust, pressing briefly against the cold surface. Yet, where snowflakes dazzle with their crystalline beauty, melting harmlessly into fleeting streaks, these “white ants” carry a sinister intent, their presence hinting at the unseen decay gnawing within the frame. The snowflakes’ gentle descent outside evokes wonder and stillness, while the termites’ slow invasion inside stirs dread—a quiet storm of ruin masquerading as nature’s soft touch. It’s a jarring contrast, beauty and threat locked in an uncanny dance across the glass.

blizzard—
storming termites
against the front window (haiku)

CASCADING MARCH

An infestation of white ants—termites—swarming through the walls of a home feels eerily akin to a downpour of snowflakes cascading indoors. Their pale, ghostly bodies spill forth from hidden crevices, a silent blizzard of wriggling forms that blanket surfaces with unsettling delicacy, much like snowflakes drifting through a breached window. Each termite, soft and translucent, mirrors a flake’s fleeting lightness, yet their collective presence builds with a slow, relentless weight, eroding wood just as a storm might bury a house in drifts. While snowflakes dazzle with cold beauty before melting away, these “white ants” gnaw with quiet menace, leaving destruction in their wake. It’s a strange, chilling inversion—nature’s gentle flurry turned invasive and voracious within the sanctuary of home.

snowflakes…
ants against gravity
their different paces (haiku)

GALLOPING MARCH

Observing the scurrying of black ants across the ground is like staring into the swirling chaos of a spinning cyclone tearing through the plains. Each ant, a dark speck caught in a frenzied rush, moves with a dizzying urgency that mirrors the cyclonic winds whipping debris into a vortex. Their scattered yet purposeful paths twist and converge, forming a living whirlpool of motion, much like the storm’s spiraling fury drawing everything into its grasp. While the cyclone roars with elemental power, lifting earth and sky in its churning dance, the ants ripple across the surface in silent tandem, their tiny forms a microcosm of nature’s relentless spin. It’s a striking parallel—two forces, vast and minute, united in their restless, swirling momentum.

black river…
black ants
following tracks
that follow tracks (haiku)

STREAMING MARCH

Watching the scurrying red ants dart across the dry earth is like witnessing the rising, flickering flames of a wildfire claiming its domain. Each ant, a tiny spark of crimson, races with frantic urgency, their collective motion weaving a chaotic tapestry that mirrors the unpredictable leap of fire across tinder. The ants’ swift, relentless advance echoes the flames’ insatiable hunger, both spreading outward in a relentless surge, fueled by an primal energy that defies restraint. Where the wildfire’s golden tongues twist and climb with smoky grace, the ants skitter in jagged bursts, their red bodies glinting like embers scattered by the wind. Together, they embody a wild, untamed force—fleeting yet fierce, small yet unstoppable.

rising flames…
a roaming row of ants
i can’t see (haiku)