Sunny Days

Sunny Days                                                JJS.    8.aug2016

 

Every morning this summer, surprisingly

sunny and hot

for several weeks

Except for that twentyfour hours of

fine drizzle

and that final night-time burst of

torrential rain.

 

Every morning in that surprise of heat

inclined to frizzle

the finest leaves of fuchsia or

raspberry cane

I would tap my foot on a paving slab by

A waterbutt

then pause to bend a hand to a watering can.

 

A frog slid out

from under

the lip and sat on a brick an inch away

and refused to look at me.

 

I bent a little lower, as much as I could,

to study the smooth green skin with its fuzzed

brown spots

while it never moved or blinked or

even twitched.

 

Every morning frog played sleeping lions, refusing to see,

tantalisingly

ignoring me

as I studied the sleek leg and long blobbed toes.

Frog rested

casually

languorously

ignoring my existence while the sun shimmered over its back

and green skinned bellows.

 

Until I move a boot an inch, so I can reach the can.

Frog jumps

flat foot and splayed upon the chicken wire,

shrunken body, legs akimbo in dissection mode,

stranded.

We both hesitate again,

frog in the shade

while the sun still sweats on my neck.

 

Frogs don’t only sit or jump,

they manoeuvre

to slip front legs then head through the circle,

a too small circle,

then contract the bellows, the chest and ooze into

and through the wire noose

and flick

those wicket-keepers legs without a thought

to land like a tumbler and with a kick retreat

to ground-elder leaves and disappear.

 

The frog never looks at me face to face.

Why should it?

We play our little game, have no need to kiss,

both have chores to live.

I hope tomorrow will be the same.

frog lounge 2

 

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About poetryparc2

Here goes: I write a bit of poetry, sometimes about poetry I find and ditto any sort of books I take a fancy to. I seem to have a preference for seeing the changes from the late Victorian period through to the 1930's, maybe 50's. But, and a big but, could carry that right up to current poetry/performance poetry. Though sometimes my grounding for 'imagist and Nature' might unnerve me for too much too modern. However, I do like to range widely over all 'historical' poetry, and fiction, any and all periods. I also like finding (if only for me) regional or partly forgotten poems and poets. Maybe all this is too eclectic to have a themed 'Blog' but so be it....... I also enjoy writing bits of fiction that might add up to a small mole-hill one day. Plus reviewing of new or old books that are relevant to my enthusiasms of Crime fiction, the Arts, Natural History and Special Education. This is on 'wordparc'. I try to record honestly what I think but if something is too bad (to my mind, others may love it!!) then I will not 'blog' it There, what's that if not seemingly random!
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