The Frog - Poem by James McLain
On the log,
where I can look at it as it tries, and tries.
Not moving and moving not.
Away from the pond the frog is cut off?
In the form of a boy demon, 'God, I saw today of wildness,
and cruel noise, to do it, to be it, one with thee.
It is from the joy of the swamp land, having, using the gig,
the frog has been caught by it's leg.
And the boy then turning it over and when he does.
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