the only way to catch a frog

December 16th, 2005

i came across it once or twice
i offered ample bowls of rice.
it flares it’s lungs and looks away
and hops out from my lonely cay.
but late in the chilly afternoon
it hopped back out to greet the moon.
it seems to ponder deep and long
as if its assumptions had been wrong
about me, and life and everything.
its eyes reflect the pondwater rings.
it croaks to ask that i forgive
and i come outside with rice to give.
its gentle palpitating skin
cannot keep warm in this bitter wind.
so i cup my hands to let it sit
and it trusts me without overthinking it.
the comfort took me by surprise
i wondered if it was some disguise.
i brought it into candlelight
keeping quiet to be polite.
the rain came running with the storm
so i boiled water to keep us warm.
today a friendship has emerged
how unlikely our species to converge.
it’s cold and i must cherish this
for in sweetness, there’s warmth and holy bliss.
but there’s nothing sweeter, i believe,
than frog leg stew on an autumn eve.

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