A rancid nest of twigs and branches lay hidden in our gutter
Filled with ants
They lurk inside only to disperse madly across the narrow recesses of our roof
Could this be the answer to our ever pressing ant infestation?
My husband balances precariously on a ladder, trowel in hand
Bits of debris come sailing down
Hitting the lawn in large clumps
The gutters, once sprouting ferns and small maple trees, are washed cleaned by the ominous hose
Ants go careening into the sky
As if they are little fighter pilots expelled from their planes in battle