A Frog Poem

The frogs are still singing. Still hot around here for a while longer.

The Frog
by Hillaire Belloc

Be kind and tender to the Frog,
And do not call him names,
As "Slimy-skin," or "Polly-wog,"
or likewise, "Uncle James,"

Or "Gape-a-grin,' or Toad-gone-wrong,"
or "Billy Bandy-knees":
The frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.

No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair,
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a Frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare).

Heidi hosts Poetry Friday at my juicy little universe.

Poetry of the Body

 I stumbled upon this poem in a Rodney Yee book, called Poetry of the Body, purchased for one dollar at the Friends of the Library book sale last weekend. Some days are delightful in their convergence.

Once Only

almost at the equator
almost at the equinox
exactly at midnight
from a ship
the full
 
moon
                  
in the center of the sky.



Gary Snyder

Sappa Creek near Singapore

March 1958

Ardha Chandrasana, officially it's only "half moon pose," and this is definitely modified, but still such fun.

May all the things you love converge today!

Tabatha Yeatts hosts Poetry Friday at The Opposite of Indifference.