Green Day Poem by Rob Clarke

Heat hovers above the road,
A distortion of rural space,
Ready to pounce as we pass.
Out of the sun,
Emerald dragon flies
Dart at us, utterly harmless,
Yet sinister to the eye.
Our sure steps falter,
Just a little,
At their flash and flight.
We skirt the pond,
Scaring jittery cattle
From their afternoon refreshment.
Languid in the hoof smeared depression,
Its grey-green waters lie.
The mud smells vaguely
Of rancid oil.

Here there are frogs.

In the spring, jelly egg clusters
Hang like bunches of translucent grapes
In the stagnant water;
Each embryo, a black eye peering out.
Ridiculous tadpoles dart everywhere;
Nowhere.
Later there are small frogs -
With tails! And by mid-summer,
Full grown leopards leap,
Ready for sport.
From the dark water
Frog eyes stare, expressionless,
As cicadas hiss at us.
From evergreen ambush
We raise our Daisies and take aim.

Robert Clarke
Copyright 1993