11.9.06

Frog so small, slumbering frog,
Clinging to the window on my car of rot and rust,
Can't you see? I've got to get home,
Drive out to the street and leave you here to drink the dew.
The parking lot's streetlight puddles
Start to make me tired, but I won't betray your trust.
I won't leave 'til you're detached
From the driver side of my sedan where you hold on so true.

I reach out with fingertips,
Feel your body cringe with waking pressure on your back,
You reply with open eye,
Frantic, belly crawling, all four legs across my glass.
"Easy, now," I gently rasp,
Reaching out again, this time to stop you in your track.
Quiv'ring, cold, you stop and wait,
Wond'ring if I'll take your life or simply let you pass.

I am not a tyrant, though,
Nor person prone to hate,
And though my hands are dry and slow,
I feel your heart's damp weight.

Worry not, o peaceful frog,
Crawl into my open hand.
I'll carry you into the fog,
Return you to the grassy land.

We'll both be alright tonight
With paths that weave and intersect,
Moving past the moment's fright,
You blink at me; I nod respect.