The world according to a bored bard

Frog legs
.

The day is as long as an old Roman road

Daffodils stretch their slow necks

then curtsy to a silent ovation

and later take their final bow

Blossoms unclench from their buds

Apple cherry peach and pear

On the ends of twisted twigs

Form fruits in miniature everywhere

Spring turns while frogs

trill, chirp, scream, bark, grunt, peep, beep,

cluck, croak, quack, whistle, bellow and hoot

then silence

for what seems an eternity

only to start again with another round of

trill, chirp, scream, bark, grunt, peep, beep,

cluck, croak, quack, whistle, bellow, and hoot

then

Stalking, storks, seagulls, swans, herons, crows,

egrets, ducks, geese, ravens, hawks, owls, and cranes

fine-tune their telescope eyes

onto the frog’s half-submerged heads

They always eat the bodies

Who eats the legs?

We do, apparently