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Spring is when the ants come out; the ants come in the spring.

Their being here reminds us all sand’s not a steady thing.

What’s underneath our houses does not support us well.

But after the next shaker removes us all to hell,

The ants will go on digging the tunnels in which they dwell.

It’s Spring that makes the ants come up and spread throughout our homes,

To drag a crumb from the living room into ant catacombs.

They don’t work so hard in winter’s cold; they sleep through summer’s heat.

If the rest of the year they live unseen, in spring they’re not discreet.

It’s rain that gets them clambering in ‘cause they don’t have a fleet.

Spring is when the ants assault; the spring is when they swarm.

So put your food away in jars before a thunderstorm.

Or else you’ll have to spray them, and that might make you wheeze.

The toxic cures are faster than the natural remedies,

And the last thing that you want is an ant attack reprise!

So Spring is when convictions die; when you do what you must

To send the little buggers back into their soggy dust.

Though I try to share the planet with creatures large and small,

I draw a line around my home. I will not have a brawl

With those who’d wrest it from my hands. And ants have got some gall!

So in Spring we duke it out, and pray for drought at least,

Lest you’re entertaining guests not invited to your feast.

If you value orderliness, or if you value peace,

You’ll guard from these introducers who aren’t scared by police,

Until the rain decreases. Please, Summer, brings release.

Spring is when the ants come out; the ants come in the spring.

Their being here reminds us all life’s not a steady thing.

Though life depends on water, and water spurs the green,

Too much of it’s disaster; too much of it’s obscene;

Too much and we’re invaded by visitors unclean.

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