Sandra Dodd

(April 17,1967 / Los Angeles, CA)

How Bird and Frog Finish Up


All was fine in the forest.
Sun beams glistening
through the trees
Stillness all around,
everything as it should be.
Lonely in his pond frog had
resigned to never being loved.
He saw the deers
going about in pairs
Even raccoons had families,
females by the scores
But nair a frogess anywhere
would respond
to the most practiced ribbit.
I guess as frogs go
he was much a horny toad.
So he sat alone
in his tepid mossy pond.

On an average morn
in the glistening beams
of forest floor,
with his eyes practically
atop his head,
he spotted a beautiful creature
he knew he must wed!
Graceful, swift, slim,
with the song of a crane,
she gave him the hops
something fierce!
He began to croak
knowing usually this led
to nothing more than a joke
on his bestead.
But he sang his gullet out
to gain the attention of
his intended wife.

Swooping down he feared
with a peck and one gulp,
she would turn him down by
making breakfast of him.
Stead she chirped a reply
to his shocking glee,
he understood her
he could not deny
was an astounding
“I really dig you”
With you slick green skin,
bumpy tattoos,
pretty song you sing for me.
I swoon until the noon,
None of the other birds
do it for me like you do,
Hence I have been single
without an egg to roost
and never a feather plucked
by a green hot bird”


Then beak to gullet
he laid it on her
No dumb frog
he wasn’t letting
a sexy bird get away!
A kiss that the forest
could not understand.
But the beginning
of a great romance.
The mossy curtain
was pulled.

Not long after a shingle
was pecked, hung
Mr. and Mrs. Frogbird’s pond
“If it be a splashin‘,
no camera flashin‘,
and don’t be trashin’
our strange love.'

For many years to come
frog and bird
will get it done.

Submitted: Sunday, January 31, 2010

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