What is love?

Apple tree above and grass below
Sandwiched a lost traveller twixt roads
Tight grip of letter in hand, cold
From wandering, searching for home;

Downcast stare lays bare his despair
Finishing last, a race which never ends
Fair dirt invites his defeated glare
To athletes of earth, stringing heads;

Mother Nature listening, he enquires
"What is love?", to a bare apple core
In psychotic wonder, an ant replies
"Don't hurt us, don't hurt us no more."