Again the ants invade. It’s no surprise.
Survival instincts have to be obeyed.
Outside is cold and wet. Before my eyes,
again the ants invade.

Like moving coffee grounds, the bugs parade
within my kitchen sink. So I arise
to drown and crush and vacuum what’s displayed.

I’m fortunate they’re such a tiny size.
But I can’t find the entrance for the raid.
It isn’t food – they’re dashing ceiling-wide.
Again the ants invade.

(Roundel)