I lay there for hours
cheek pressed to damp soil,
breathing through one nostril
least the enemy still toil...

I dozed off and on as the sun
and moon traded place...
Crickets sang while ants
formed beautiful black lace...

Working feverishly in the red pond
haloing my head, warming me,
I slept until the cricket choir
opened act three...

Not as loud now, I strained
to hear their melody...
Yearned for them to sing louder,
sing, sing for me!...

Are they leaving or am I,
where is the black lace?...
Job complete the ants marched on,
their bounty carried to a hidden place...

Floating now, high above the fray,
I see, in dried mud encased,
something familiar yet strange to me,
the imprint of my face...