and holy
days asleep in the calendar wake up and chime.
– William Stafford (“How You Know”)
Tree frogs awake in the dark,
in the rain, a steady wave of chorusing
croaks upon croak—thousands
clear the air in their throats
again and again, prolong moments
no one else seems to want.
I pause in my tracks listening
deep into the wet blackness to a holy
tradition begun before man.
0.88″
drycrikjournal 
Stunning. So nice to see these wild flowers.
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Patches now in certain places, more to come, I assume. I’m looking forward to time with my macro lens.
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Me too
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I can hear the resonating waves of croaks in the line “…thousand/clear the air in their throats again and again…” but what made me pause was the line “…prolong moments/no one else seems to want.” Lovely. Here we have a spring frog called “spring peepers”. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwZtqDMxoQI
By the way, congratulations on your award!
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Thank you, Susanne. Just talked with my son who accepted my statuette in Fort Worth in my stead. A city of a million, he says, that feels like a only 100,000 of the friendliest people he’s ever encountered, live music everywhere.
Your peeper’s soprano solos above the baritone chorus is delightful!
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Interesting: one man’s croak is another man’s music . . . Very nicely written!
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Thank you, Peter. When you consider that the tree frog survived what the dinosaurs could not, it makes their croaks all the sweeter.
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