The old watch: their
thick eyes
puff and foreclose by the moon.The young, heads
trailed by the beginnings of necks,
shiver,
in the guarantee they shall be bodies.

In the frog pond
the vapor trail of a SAC bomber creeps,

I hear its drone, drifting, high up
in immaculate ozone.

Galway Kinnell

Read poems about / on: frog, moon

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10/14/2008 11:08:14 AM. You Are Here: Vapor Train Reflected in the Frog Pond by Galway Kinnell