Friday, August 24, 2012

The Frogs of August



Mack Hall
mhall46184@aol.com


The Frogs of August

After surprising summer showers in
A time of heat and dust and lethargy,
Forth from their hidden reptilian repose
The frogs of August rise, and sing a hymn,
A joyful hymn to rain and tasty bugs.

The Pickwickian toad sings of himself,
A stout old gentleman of means and thrift;

The bluff and hearty bullfrog by the pond
Bellows his boasts, and puffs his own praises.

Preferring window screens to rain-damp leaves,
The tiny tree frog trills his outsized voice.

The disparate, dissonant descantations

Of this catalogue of errant froggery
Drift in and out of transient harmony
And back again, an ancient unity
To please the late-night wanderer of hours.

 

O Ye of Little Frog

For those who deny that frogs sing to God
 
O ye of little faith in night’s mysteries
Oft hasten to explain away God’s arts,
And dampen joys with your false-writ histories
Believing in dull books, and not your hearts.

You claim that frogs sing only to gain mates,
Based on some long-dead dullard’s science log,
Claiming the last word on reptilian traits -
What do you know of the love-life of a frog?

You might then with equal injustice claim
That Compline is sung in order to attract
Women – but is that Saint Benedict’s aim?
Poor frogs and monks sing hymns; and that’s a fact!

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