Song of the ant
In the raspberry jam
from the reputable firm
lay an ant.
I was so pleased:
an ant, a real ant
an ant not listed in 'ingredients'
that proves there is a summer.
Outdoors, the arctic fog lay thick.
Indoors, the ant lay on my plate
as if enclosed in amber.
The ages met.
The rooms collided.
Raspberry time and raspberry room
with newspaper time and breakfast room.
And the time of the ant,
so pitifully thwarted by the jam
came to land
in a jar.
Not even the National Museum of Natural History
can surprise us so!
From "To Catch Life Anew. 10 Swedish Women Poets"