caught a frog on the fence
just the first rung
he was looking for a way -
he was on his way.
i approached easily and carried him back to the pond.
though the month is right for him to leave,
it was dry out there,
rough brush to cross;
he can go safer when it rains. that night it did
and he did.
he was as limp as a warm, fish filet as i gently held im,
like jello in a thin, pliable, plastic bag. he knew it was me.
no fight or resistance when i carried him back to the pond.
i've watched for years, but never expected frogs to be so soft.
1 comment:
You were a trusted friend.
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