It could be several eons sometimes

Before they burst out:  ants crawling out of dead tadpole bodies

Festive and yet there will be one mourning-

That it was too short a time. Languages

Acquired in those noteworthy moments lost,

Completely, to the bigger eye of things

Where nurseries are but quaint and small,

Diligent in their quiet quarters. Pensive gravel of thoughts

Become sand in the tongue

Unnerving yet brutally true.