Frogs
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A not so bright man with a really bad plan...
Goes on the wrong kind of trip & lets it drip.
Going up & down; about & around...
Jumps out a window; lies dead on the ground.
Où se trouvent ces crapauds
Qui crachent sur notre tête ?
Où sont-ils, ces sales bêtes
Things to see pass in a storm:
A bicycle rider,
One wicked witch,
4 large antelope,
5 dancing teacups,
Big purple elephant,
The rain has come again, to grace sidewalks and streets and silicone handles on blue and green umbrellas,
Oh! How the rain has come again.
Where do frogs go in the winter?
What do they do?
Do they huddle under covers like me and you?
Forgive me, you and I, a terrible mistake.
thickets of ivy
bathtubs of mud
a consortium of
bubbling
bleating hearts
slipping, sliding
gliding with
powers of croaking warlocks
from stick to rock--
careful, hold on,
He had eyes green as lily pads,
And a heart, large as the pond outside his grandad’s house
Where we splashed and squealed as children.
Lend an ear and lend a hand
The frogs are all in such demand!
They clean our water and eat bad bugs
And give us clues for medical drugs.
Their state of health can tell us a lot
The nightly winds howl
as I lie in bed, awake.
I can hear the frogs.
As their endless croaks
get louder and louder, I
become more restless.
As I turn back and
Jump, splash, plop.
A calm peaceful pond,
Little frogs swimming around,
Exploring the wondrous beauty.
Bullets born from our sorrowful tears,
cold as ice and clear as crystal
Fire through the dense barricade of the emerald-green,
leave-covered, tree-filled canopy
As an electrified bolt of lightning
