Their song has survived hard ground,
the dry and dusty years, the dead and dying
trees without moisture, brittle broken roots—
sopranos, altos and baritones, a gleeful
impromptu chorus praising a month of rain,
they have survived sixty-six million years,
the asteroid’s collision, climate change
to serenade outside my window—symphonies
all this time before we walked this earth.
drycrikjournal 
Oh Dad, thanks for this!!
I met a similar tree frog serenade the night I snuck out the house on mill road alone to support the labor of Elsie’s arrival. I always felt blessed to have had these joyful guardians there on that stroll welcoming her….So cool to hear of their survival ‘superpowers’ and that your getting a ‘new life’ serenade of your own!
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This is beautiful and uplifting. I’ll think of it when frogs start singing in the marsh nearby…after the winter.
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great poem – and I love these little frogs
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Thanks to all for your comments. It’s been so long since it really rained, I’d forgotten about the tree frogs, now in full chorus, 24 hours/day.
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