When the smell of putrid plants

Calls to those inquisitive ants

We wonder what it is they sense

Or is that they’re just so dense

As not to know the mold they taste

Is really only decayed waste

The humans left outside to rot

That time and weather just forgot

Or is that they’re really smart

And find this fruit, sweet and tart

To satisfy their cravings for

Oh! Food, for winter, they will store

I suppose it could be worse than this

They must find mold, their true bliss

September Writing Prompt – Putrid plants and inquisitive ants – Day 27/30

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