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" |