the frog

The frog on the grass
Staring up quietly sits
Bulging eyes staring
On the surrounding

Late at night
Alone catching insects
No other predators to chase away
The frog in the garden

The soft breeze
It hops as it pleases
Catching insects for its meals
No mate to discourage

Some mysteriously died
Near a shade as if it was time
Dried up by the sun
The end of the road