The Toad

By John I. Blair

And then one magic time I found a toad
Asleep deep in its winter house,
Hidden away in wait for spring.

How long it had been waiting underground
I could not tell.
Its skin was pale and slack;
Its eyes were clouded;
And there, in a dark chamber
Just barely bigger than its body,
It lay day after day without a change.

Now how did the toad know
That warmth and rain and food and light
Would come once more into its life,
That one day again the world would be
All starlit nights and time for singing?

©2002 John I. Blair