Sunday, March 28, 2010
This photo from Google images...
In the last two weeks, the Spring Peepers have begun their chorus - deafening love songs from what must be millions of tiny bodies. I drive by Tom's Creek , along South Seton Avenue at dusk, and their voices envelop me.
In spring the frog sounds like a bird
who with his cousins curves the night
around the pond with hot blue songs
that bend the mud and send the slight
sounds shivering into the dark,
across wet pasture, black with sleep
Across the field the undulating
chorus bites through rock and mud
to say the winter yields its howling
to the tough truth’s greening blood
The eyes of songbirds cut the clouds,
their silent flight to north and nest.