Defending

I have tiny black ants in my house, but
I only find one at a time, never the rivers
of them running from the crack in the wall
to the bottom of the bookshelf. Of course,
they mean to start building soon, a whole
busy civilization flowing over
my wood floors in two lane freeways.
But for now, they're staking the place out.
They're waiting for the word from
the little pioneers, the explorers sent out
one by one every house in the neighborhood.
Every day, I sink another Columbus with my toe.