This ran up in the poetic forms challenge for Decima at good ol' Writer's Digest. I'm glad - I am pleased with it:
Globe of matter
If ants weren’t so hungry, or if
the queen disbanded the army,
idle ants would do as we do:
play poker, write memoir, sniff wines
and pass their time in earth adrift
in the disinterest of matter.
We sleep through the pitter-patter
of their gustatory footsteps
and get up, upset to accept
they have found a glob of batter.