Lake of Oro

Beneath the shade of a

fiery tree

the sun glints off the wters

of a lake overgrown

with salty weeds.

Once golden and green

warmly bubbling

with carpets of fish

now it gurgles

not yet old

but never undone.

Red ants scurry between cracks in our picnic table, as if searching for treasure or trying to find their way to their date's house at the last minute. Not only are they quick, they disappear periodically into the shade of a groove, only to run back out into the frying sun. Not pointless- until you notice that their little legs only circle about an inch of table. Are they looking for food? Shelter? Their fellow insects? It's interesting that they're in such a hurry, and yet they take their time to double- no, triple inspect every inch of path.