Joel L. Young
Frog Watching
Watching frogs by the pond
Their amphibian nature attracts
my sensibilities, eating mosquitoes
that glow in the dark
like buzzing stars for eclectic tastes.
I wonder of the hours that go by
yellow jackets wear blazers;
well suited to the season like sportcasters
announce play-by-plays of skeeters
stinging bats, and yelping like fanatics
fly into the mouths of toads
lying in wait.
Dryspells ruin the spirit from
the previous night's mist
Frogs sit on their pad,
rib each other about their warts
sing poetically to their darlins
like philosophers in a coffeehouse
dreading twilight's passing into dusk.
The moon must taste bittersweet to the toad
who leaps above the fray;
when a sweetheart wants to dance
but she dips beneath the surface water
like she had a headache
to ignore his advances.
window walker
his feet are small
scaling high rises
in the midst of summer
watching rainbows
fall beneath color stars
in mystic shades
of green, brown, and blue
turning chameleon
feeling with his tongue
he moves along
the windows with stealth
snapping flies
like the night swallows
a star under a cloud
the walker swishes his tail
turning his green body
contorting to climb down
a patio beam, scampers
into a nearby rose bush
to rest and shed
his lizard skin.
©2004 by Joel L. Young
