Toad Holler

By John I. Blair

Late last night
When I stepped outside
Into the gardened yard

I heard a croaking love call
Issue from the dark
Next to a flower pot.

In thrall to the artificial wet
Of a plastic pool,
A toad was singing.

No aubade this,
No tale of lovers parting;
Instead a hoarse reproach

To any female toad
Who doubted his
The best spot in her world

For moist trysts, toad tangos,
Tributes to a future
Filled with little toads,

Simulacra of themselves,
Destined in like kind
(If chance and instinct hold)

To croak future songs by future pots,
Future pools, on future nights
For future me’s to hear.

©2010 John I. Blair