It’s not about you—
and not about to change
the weather or politics.
You are helpless,
at the mercy of the swirl
of elements colliding,
ricochets and explosions,
occasional clear views
of space and landscape
that keep you leaning forward
into the sun, your shadow cast
upon a fading track of small
accomplishment. After a rain
every tree frog sings
as if spring depended on it.
drycrikjournal 
I’ll be thinking about the tree frog singing for a while. Thanks
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If the weatherman is right, they’ll be singing again this weekend.
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Great last lines . . . Bravo!
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This one touched me deeply again, John. Beautifully expressed.
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Good, and thank you, Louise. If we just could lose our egos long enough to learn something from our natural surroundings, and to find the joy that may reside within us.
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This is lovely…I’d love to hear the singing tree frogs…and a beautiful photo
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