The ant doesn’t care if it’s Christmas.
He mucks about in the crevices of our white tile
Just as he would any other day.
He doesn’t care that I miss two of my sons,
Or worry about my friend who is a grieving the loss of her child.
He isn’t impressed by the Christmas lights,
Or green cakes with poinsettia decorations,
Projectors of snowflakes on garage doors.
He’s searching for a drop of water,
Or a random grass seed the dog or I dragged in,
That he can take back to his colony.
He is immersed in his moment
Deepak Chopra didn’t have to tell him
Or the Dali Lama
God isn’t in the carols or the church bells.
God is in the struggle.