Frog Legged

A poem on wonder & synchronicity

My friend’s mother loved frogs. Frog figurines and paraphernalia perched atop shelves throughout the house. The day she died, my friend found frogs on his windshield. As if mama were saying, I’m with you for this new leg of the journey.

Frogs symbolize transformation, and I wanted to be supportive. Still, my skepticism must have woven itself into the air like the fireflies. My friend smiled sheepishly I reached across the table, unsure what to say.

But, by then, the boxwood nearby had begun croaking. Make the leap, I heard. Make the leap.

For Keith. Prompted by Martin Rushton.