Tuesday, March 27, 2018

hibernating frog

I dug up a hibernating frog,
When I levered a buried paving stone,
Out of the ground,
Next to the pond.
I imagined that I was an archaeologist,
Or a grave robber,
As I cut away couch grass and weeds
And prised the slab onto its edge,
But as it hadn’t been buried that long,
The only treasures revealed,
Seemed to be worms and woodlice
Scurrying and writhing away
From the sudden unwelcome daylight.
Then I saw the little frog’s
Long legs kicking
As it hid in another crevice.
Sorry, amphibian pal,
To have so rudely woken you.
Spring’s on the way
But not quite all here yet,
So, catch some more kip,
Until the sun’s well up
And the swifts have returned.

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