frog eye

It surprises me to step outside after the rain. The grey air moves with warmth. So warm for fall.

A warm breeze, which stops when I turn my head to track it.

Plant-scent hangs over the heavy wet fields. The rain has cleared the air so colours are more intense than usual: deep reds and dark greens.

Somehow in the stillness I get a sense of motion. Where there is life, there is a pulse: I get down on my hands and knees to see: the throb in the throat of a dirt road frog.

I dig out my camera and try to take a photo. But my lens mists over. So I simply crouch down and watch.

The frog is watching me back. Black pupil in a bronze eye.

Do you know something that I don’t, frog?

And then he’s off.

The frog crosses the road in a few quick bounds, each leap several times his length. Across and over and down into the ditch.

One thought on “frog eye

  1. hey Philip sorry i’m leaving this comment here in this post.
    It seems easier just to send the message at any opportunity.

    I receiverd your Book ” Black Spring” and have been enjoying it. As a matter of fact rereading some of the chapters before moving on to the conclusion.

    I’ll send you a hand written letter once I complete it.
    I then will continue reading “tropic of Cancer.”
    The opening chapters about art in that book are so intriguing.

    anyways more later,
    thanks for sending your retun address.


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