a trickle
in the long-dry creek . . .
chorus frogs
piping a memory
into the heart of winter
I fell under an enchantment when I was only a small child. The sun warm
on the back of my neck, I would stand stock-still at the edge of a marsh, waiting
for the voices to begin. I heard them first in the distance—one, two, then more
and more until they merged into a sound like a million silver sleigh
bells. Even when a voice pealed out right
at the toe of my boot, I could not spot one singer hidden in the reeds.
still seeking
what I cannot see—
a mystery
haunts the marshes
of a wayfaring mind
Half a century later and halfway round the globe, 25 new species of
frogs have been discovered on Mount Oku in central Africa. But as fast as their voices are heard, some
fall forever silent. Nearly half of
Mount Oku’s amphibians are threatened with extinction as people cut the forests
and poison the water . . . as the climate heats up and diseases spread.
found and lost
in the space of a song
the spells
of an unknown weaver
undone by hexing hands
~Skylark
5:2, Winter 2017
