Toadsong
By
John I. Blair
In almost April
Resonating churrs
Vibrate the night air.
Puffed up with passion,
The toads are singing
Everywhere I look.
To the spawning spot
Where they congregate
Measures half a mile,
A jarring journey
For a toad to take
Hop by hop by hop.
But that distant ditch
Is where toads have hatched
Since it was a brook
And the current curb
Streets and houses place
Will not make them stop.
©2002 John I. Blair
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