They said they would appear,
The cracks that is,
Eventually, Inevitably,
Not hairline fractures
Not superficial scratches
But deep cracks, all the way
Down to the times of sand
That comprise the shifting
Moving underlayment.
Well come they did, they did.
The cracks that is.

And the ants, lots of ants.
They’ve taken up their residence
In the cracks, the many cracks.
Shuttling through the cracks between the
Times of sand and the surface.
They leave their grains in piles
For everyone to see.
But the rain comes and goes
Washes away the piles
Leaving the cracks clean, fresh.
The piles will return though,
Possessing perpetuality
Without the permanence.

Deeper down in the cracks
Organic matter finds its way
Decays, provides fertile
Bedding for seeds of weeds
To find a home and grow.
I cut them and pull them
Sometimes I poison them (I know).
I know the cracks come but do not go
With the unending tides
But I am not ready
For them to be wide.