Not My Fault Poem by Clive Culverhouse

I'm afraid it was the sun
as it coaxed leaves to glisten
within a gentle background
of white noise breeze that
made the grass sway

I too accuse the reds
and the yellows of flowers
that knowingly indulged
their vibrancy, violet
the cunning ringleader
whose plan was hatched
that fateful day

when I stood inadvertently
murmuring discreetly
appreciating, but a frog
had jumped beside me
I didn't know he was there
I hope I can count on
his discretion