Frogs!

Port Albion in 1999-a pond in my front yard Pup so loved this place!

Kids! This evening as I was walking back home from my sister's, across the street, I heard the first frogs of the season, croaking happily in her small pond.

Hearing them reminded me of a short ode I wrote to frogs, in the months when I lived in a small outpost on a rather large pond at the base of some mountains in Clayoquot Sound. Every evening, at sunset, the mountains turned a deep blushing rose, the frogs serenaded, and herons swooped overhead. I wrote about the herons too. Here they are: a nostalgic trip back to a time of pure beauty.

Song of the frogs

in the fading light

soft fade the hills

in the falling night

God touching earth

with a gentle might

and all is beauty

within my sight

soft falls the light

on garden walls

a rose-hued mountain

as day's curtain falls

a froggy symphony

serenades the night sky

and grateful, grateful, grateful

I.

***   ***   ***

Ode to a Heron

Graceful heron
swooping across
the evening sky
like a pteradactyl,
Prehistoric bird
perched
on a treetop,
my heart swoops
with you,
then stills,
standing by
the silent pond,
waiting for the night
to settle
around us both
softly
as feathers.