Behind the bush, upon the mound,
ants are moving without a sound.
Leaves are passed along the chain,
where ants are lined as one.
Strands of silver make its net,
a fly is caught in its web;
Now it’s too late,
the spider comes to seal its fate.
They march on to feed the queen,
deep below she lays unseen.
Workers feed the silent drones,
in their capsule breeding zones.
The spider shoots its webs to reach,
across the ever-widening breach.
Swinging on a single thread,
beyond the gap, the web is spread
-Saurabh Patil, 12 years, Belgaum