All life is dialogue
told by a brown toad
Down by a pond
I scream past
racing the road
and truck my load
to the next
fence post.
There I begin
to mend again
the broken wire
that sings in the wind
And the toad
I hear keeping time
in momentary a-cappella
in my mind.
We all listen
at times to the singing
and at other times
we beg quiet
busy remembering
a singing toad
talking really,
when the sun was higher.
10/18/10
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