frog

Cascade Of Hearts

the one hundred year old
stone frog
worships at this alter

I’ll do
what I want
is his only thought

like a shadow
of old oxblood
clapboard

in the birdbath
bathing
in sunshine

sleepy heads
dewy eyed bulbs
rise from the garden bed

emerald green
seldom seen
frog king

catches flies
to pass the time,
dreaming of his princess’s kiss.

The birdbath
calls out
for rain

Not even your magnificent camouflage
can obscure your vibrant alive-ness.