The Red Ants Go Marching

The red ants go marching,
marching, marching.

Terri, my favorite cashier,
smiles as she turns bills
into paper money orders.

Red ant stickers go marching,
marching, marching,
across her till
at the Northern Tier Credit Union.

"This is Sir Percy the lead ant,
and Marguerite and Armand St. Just.
Here is Chevaulin turned backwards.
All the other ants are gaining on him..."

The red ants go marching,
marching, marching.

Terry tells me about the Scarlet Pimpernel
as she slowly counts twenties, tens, fives,
into slots and punches numbers
into the keyboard.

The red ants go marching,
marching, marching.

The bank ran out of money,
and recession means
belt tightening for me,
but I smile when I see
ants on the sidewalk.

The red ants go marching,
marching, marching
past my threadworn shoes.