An English In Kentucky


















August 6th  2011    Tim Candler

    I staggered down the stairs in a rage last night to shout at the Frog.  He was suddenly silent and so was every one else, which for a while at least gave me a sense of being in charge.  Then in the woods, several hundred yards away, other night calling Frogs set up a chorus, and from his ornamentals my little Frog joined in.

      Cathartic, I suppose.  Because I have to wonder what it was that made him leave his clan, hop all that distance to the lonely trees by the house.  Now when I listen to his song I hear his determination, and sometimes I hear his uncertainty.  As well I must have pulled a vocal chord, or swallowed the spider that weaves by the back door.

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