Eight a.m., coffee on the patio
I’d slogged my way through the Enquirer
Skipping most stories, so boring, empty
Sudoku, more enticing but
even it imploded at the end
Just then I noticed a solitary black ant
making his way round the table’s rim
Running for two or three inches
Stopping, looking here and there
Running some more
His body language, clear signs of panic
“He may have to do this forever,” I thought
This ant will never discover
that the table rim is round
Not a drop of water, not a speck of food
Nothing but barren gray metal
Will he run in a circle
until he dies?
I caught my breath, gave a sigh
I felt sorrow for the ant
and also identified with his plight
My own table rim is larger
but every bit as circular
Fruitless, bereft of nutrition
I went to the kitchen, found a piece of cardboard
I would lure the ant onto it
Then lower him to the ground
I hurried back to the patio
Much to my astonishment
the ant was nowhere to be found
He’d left my table
for a better ant place
I felt a vicarious sense of triumph
If that ant could solve his predicament
There’s surely hope for the rest of us 
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