Froglets in the grass

"Land calls us from Water"*

latest Telling Toads submissions

Spring

Jinny Fisher

Nothing there

at the edge of the pond

until your foot 

heel then toe

treads tiddly-wink close to the poised

back leg of the frog

and nothing seen

plops into the duck-weed

sets the irises swaying

in its wake.

Previously published in

2019 V. Press pamphlet The Escapologist by J Fisher

Have you stood, there, on the edge of a pond? Watching the water, wondering about life below the surface?

Take a moment to pause and dream of life in a different environment

Frogs and toads know both water and land and in these days of high summer (at least in theory) froglets and toadlets are venturing out now for the first time to meet Land. The first months of Water are ending and the surivivors of those underwater perils now face new ones as the wide dry world calls them. At least the grass is wet this week and hopefully the risk of simple desiccation is lower than in some years. But there are still lawnmowers. So please give your grass a rest from trimming for these midsummer weeks and take one peril away from the young, the restless and the brave….

Telling Toads continues to receive new poems and stories (follow the link for details for sending in your own contribution)

In this post there are two from Jinny Fisher to give you something to think about…are you alone as you read this? Or sitting with a  friend? Or in a crowded café? Poems often work best when spoken out loud. So why not….go on. Give it a go….

Make Way for the Golf Carts

Jinny Fisher

Time was, he’d leap around the pond’s edge, showing off his spring, the length of his tongue, and the size of the flies it could reel in. We’d wag our tails for him, breaking the meniscus calm of the pool. There were so many of us, but not enough: not enough applause, not enough worship.

He had to be first in line for the fairy spell. A great deal, he called it. He promised to visit us from his golden palace on the hill, once the lonely princess had kissed his slimy lips. We didn’t see the sealing—the inter-species Poof, the Wow, the ‘My Prince!’ Our Dad, our Amphibian King, was gone.

Mama whispers to us each night, ‘He won’t forget us, you’ll see.’ But even as our tails shrink and leg-buds swell, we hear news that the palace has plans to drain the pond, to bring in the bulldozers.

Previously published in

2019 V. Press pamphlet The Escapologist by J Fisher

Thank you, Jinny!

Visit Froglife for lots of amphibian (and reptile) news and information

Photographs, from the top of the page

• Ian MacLellan
• Gordon MacLellan
• Judith Bullivant 
• Gordon MacLellan (line drawing)

* from the Song of the Growing Toad which will emerge from the ponds of imagiantion one day