Once on my way

Once on my way,
on the roadside,
I saw a little boy,
Perhaps three! No, perhaps four!
With little stones
in his little hands.
That kid-
Peppering an ant with those little stones,
From the height of his chest,
And missing it every time by a half feet-
Looked so childlike.
Busy with the ant,
Oblivious of the Sun at eleven,
and twas, a sultry day
The boy beamed each time he had to do it again.
If he wanted to kill or to stay it
I don’t know,
For he had plenty of time,
Before he could have his father again,
Busy, as elders are,
talking with their age.
And I,
Twenty and more,
am still thinking
Should I have impeded him,
Or, just asked his name?