I
ENCOUNTER A COMRADE
Outside my window rises a hill
of brown and gold winter grass,
a patch of purplish furze,
and near the crest a single pine.
Today in rain its trunk shines black.
Flaps of bark glint silver and green
like freshly painted doors opened just
a crack
into dark mysterious spaces.
Tiny red bugs teem within,
smaller than i-dots, like those
that sometimes tear across the pages
of books we read in easy chairs
during summer thunderstorms.
Millions of those bugs at work
pass in and out of bark-flap doors,
move with
purpose and fear
in their toil
beneath the bellies of ants
to gather a
meal for families back home.
And just this
minute, just where I look,
why couldn’t
one of those bugs
take a break
from his labors
and gaze around
to see
what’s going
on in the world?
Gradually he
gets the bigger picture.
He sees beyond
the bark horizon,
across the
vastness of space
sees a patch
of purple-green furze,
a gentle slope
of winter grass,
a white stucco
wall, a window,
and there a
gigantic being,
glasses on the
end of his nose,
applauds him
for his valor.
Ed Hodges 7.1.13
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