those pesky frogs...
This is a rework of an old poem from 2004. I promised a poet (Robert Gray) I was fortunate to study under at university that I would someday rework it a little to include the lines "The frogs are dancing" repetatively. I will have to send a few of the various versions to him, and see what he thinks.
This is the first of a few reworks that I will be having a go with... so, um... enjoy.
Frogs are dancing under the morning river bridge
watching the first arcs of sunlight make contact
with the silver treetops that shiver as though
woken from sleep by the cool dawn winds
The frogs are dancing under the morning river bridge
alongside the furtive creek scampering down sloping earth
hiding beneath logs and slipping over smothed stones until
desperately diving into the cool depths of the river
The frogs are dancing under the morning river bridge
as the river wanders aimlessly below, splashing, gurgling,
in deep conversation with itself as a crazed man
bumping into every shoreline and rock without care
The frogs are dancing under the morning river bridge
as the little waves and ripples fall back from the rocks
landing atop one another clutching in their hands tiny
precious diamonds of light, only to lose them to the depths.
As the morning sun begins its daily journey
nature sings tunes to its strange creations,
and creation responds in kind harmony
held by it all I faintly hear the song
And under the morning river bridge
the frogs continue dancing.
