Appearing this morning at quarter past nine
they entered our lunchroom and mustered a line.
They seemed to be dancing, or whistling a tune,
then ran out the door with a fork and a spoon.
They quickly came back for a knife and a plate,
not bothered at all by the size or the weight.
They grabbed all the glasses and cups they could find.
They bagged every bowl, leaving nothing behind.
They worked through the morning, till mid-afternoon,
and carried off every last saucer and spoon.
They searched every shelf and they emptied each drawer,
then pilfered the platters and dashed out the door.
They put on a truly impressive display.
They swiped all the dishes and scurried away.
It's hard to believe, but those ants were so shrewd:
They knew not to eat cafeteria food.
Copyright © 2005. All Rights Reserved.
From the book When the Teacher Isn't Looking.