Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Poem 25: Ode to a Toad

You shelter from the mid-day heat
Under the sweltering flagstones
Dead flies are your little treat
You suck their tiny bones

After a prolonged dry spell
I worry you're too dry
So I reach for my water spray

Deep in the cool dark by day you dwell
Emerging into the night sky
To prowl the terrace for your prey

English Ode form:



aprille said...

Aren't we doing well: we might actually make it to the end of the month. Who'd have thought.
With a bit of 200 year old help in places :-)
Don't know why but the tiny fly bones made me laugh. What if they become bleached in the sun and then form part of the landscape for generations.

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