On The Other Hand

On the other hand,
observed the grasshopper to the ant,
I was all summer in the air,
tasting the world, feeling sun
on my back, while you, buckling
under your loads, looked only
downward. You went navvying
in dank tunnels, disgorged food
on demand, following the orders
that filled your head, while I
made music, mated, ate what and when
I fancied, launched myself at the air.
And now comes winter, the long wait
for light; you have wasted your days,
and what will you do for memories,
having made no store?

Sheenagh Pugh: Poetry website: http://sheenagh.wix.com/sheenaghpugh