Toadlet
Toadlet
Sitting smoking at stupid am
well before coming dawns glow
disturbed from restless sweaty sleep
by spattering mill or two of rain
and as I sit on damp door steps
a toadlet hops into the light
peeking out from my window.
Bedazzeled she freezes I watch we wait
we listen together to night
I look away she takes the chance
she moves, a tiny hop,
and freezes once again
I lift my hand and guide my shadow
Towards and over her
She hops and freezes.
We do this dance she and I
A few times round together,
(I flatter myself, it’s just her instinct
To avoid all silent night predators)
So I cease my torment of unwanted attention
Directed at this young lady
She is questing for a mate
Using damp for safer travel
Seeking a boasting alluring call
She makes damp grass
And in a great leap
Disappears into the night
While there I sit in self important
vestments of human skin, but.
it occurs to me that her life’s mission
Is no less important than mine
She seeks to survive to find a mate
to raise her tadpoles safe and well
in a home with comfort and food
What more does any creature seek
When life is stripped of dross
I dust off my human arrogance
And sincerely wish her luck
Sigh get up and go inside
for large cool drink
and hopefully sleep.
©T.Arnold
Copyright © Tim Arnold | Year Posted 2018
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