If They Pray - Aug. 26, 2026

on scorching summer mornings

my walk is often quiet,

empty of movement

except for ants, as we crisscross

on the sidewalk, they on a tight schedule

to harvest meals for the day

while I watch them gather the goods

we don’t stop to chat, rarely do,

they’re too busy and I’m just passing

until

I throw my shadow over them

and their fields of concrete

then they stop what they’re doing,

wondering if the silhouette is a cloud’s

or something more sinister,

dangerous, closer to earth

they must make a quick judgment

and if they pray, I’m sure

that would be the time

to plead over thin knees