“LITTLE SMARTIES”
A tiny ant climbed up my table,
If just to show that he  was able.
But then, a thrill he'd never known:
A glob of ice cream from my  cone.
He took one bite; it filled the bill.
He hurried homeward to his hill.
The village, spurred by all his urging,
Were at my spillage soon converging.
Intense excitement, one might say,
Became the order of the  day.
They toted ice ceam to their digs,
And scarfed it down, like  starving pigs,
And may have danced a thousand jigs.
Like hyperactive whirligigs.
To me, they've passed the smartness test.
"Just instinct!" cries the scientist.
They share the treasure with the others:
Their queen, their sisters and their brothers.
Now, let me get this off my chest:
Down in the darkness of the nest,
Six-legged creatures filled with zest,
Are so successful in their quest,
"Oh, Hogwash!" screams the scientist.
Now, someday when it's been deduced
That "rote" no longer rules the roost
When scientists have had their say,
And "instinct" will have gone its way,
The  ants will always be with me;
I think of them as "family."
I long to hear the young ones chant,
"That's him - our uncle - Uncle Ant!"