The Morning Column

I slipped beneath the front door sweep and descended the concrete porch steps down to the courtyard pathway. Near the edge of the pavers, a column of small black ants was traveling along a recessed mortar line, hauling dry oat fragments. I lowered my stance, crouching flat to observe their interval and pace. When a bulky oat flake jammed against a stray gravel pebble, stopping the carrier in place, I reached forward and flicked the pebble clear. The worker adjusted its grip and resumed course without pause. I held my position on the warm brick, keeping still until the procession disappeared into the lawn.