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Saturday, April 18, 2015

tiny toad and me

in the midst of slumber, in solitude i sit
listening to the stream and tiny wakes
that role softly over stones and sticks
and a small water toad stares up at me

i sit here and the stream runs and runs
the tiny toad sits underneath the soft cottons
that hover above slowly traversing the day's sky
and then with the stars of night, alone it sits
pondering its place in all that is

i sit enjoying cardinals, two bright red and another,
darker feathers, tweeting and chirping at each other
flying from cherry tree to oak, from an ash to a maple
tree and so the tiny toad and i sit still watching this
dance on the bank of the stream

grey begins to shade the light of day and the
breezes begin to wane of warmth from the sun
to a cool attire of dusk but the stream runs on
and the tiny toad and i sit pondering... wherefore
are we in all of this

now the dark of night begins to cloak the day
and my eyes begin to slowly drape like shades and as i
lay back wandering into a dream where i and my tiny friend
share the breath of air into this moment of slumber
in Nature's abode wondering… if neither one of us were here
would the stream still run, would the birds still cheer the day ?