Poetry by Colleen Wells
A few tiny ants milling about the circle of trust, a round tapestry on the floor,
set with candles, crystals, sage and yellow daffodils.
It’s a focal point for the writing circle whose facilitators
I overheard plotting the insects’ demise.
The ants are here through no fault of their own,
innocent stowaways who were just
enjoying a taste of spring
in a bunch of plucked daffodils
brought here through no fault of whoever brought in the flowers.
An accident, soon to be a deadly mistake.
How are we different from the tiny ant
when it comes to fate?
How are we different from a speck of pollen
that moves through the wind to parts unknown,
creating flowers for you and I to cut down and carry in?
Colleen Wells writes poetry and nonfiction. Her work has appeared in Gyroscope Review, Ravensperch, and The Potomac Review among other publications. Her chapbook Animal Magnetism was published in May 2022. She works in mental health and is also a consumer of mental health services.
