Treasure Island

Angela Wybrow

(Salisbury, Wilts, UK)

Flying Ant Day

There’s a day every summer which I cannot bear:
The day when millions of ants all take to the air.
The sultry summer air suddenly comes alive,
As, around and about, the ants dart and dive.

It is around late July (if the weather is warm) ,
That these creatures in their millions suddenly swarm.
They take to the air so they can search for a mate,
But it’s the one day each summer which I really hate.

They land on your skin; they get caught in your hair;
These pesky little creatures are simply everywhere!
You’ll need to cover your mouth with your hand,
As that’s another place in which they will land!

They fly through the air; they run on the ground:
Everywhere that you go, these ants can be found.
These annoying little creatures, I attempt to whack,
As, from every single angle, I come under attack.

Along the pavements, my feet quickly pace,
In the small hope of finding an ant-free place.
Flying Ant Day is a day which I really dread,
As I just cannot bear insects around my head.

With synchronised precision, come late afternoon,
Up into the surrounding skies, the ants all zoom.
As a significant scientific event, the day is billed,
But, by it, I can’t say that I’m particularly thrilled!

Through opened windows and opened doors,
Ants on the wing will rather sneakily pour.
I’m sure that the ants will enjoy their big day,
But I really wish that they’d stay out of my way.

Submitted: Friday, June 07, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 01, 2013
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