Frogs Chanting


After the passing
of the edge of a storm
leaving it´s waters behind,
a few frog monks,
dressed in robes
in the colors of rotting leaves,

Their multi-tonal voices
echoing into a multitude,
invoking a magical spell,
chirring, chirping,
honking, croaking,
the ancient rites
of an un-names religion
without creed, without theology
or want of belief,
joyfully proclaiming
their faith and thankfulness
in the nature of their being,
their survival.
The wordless sutras
a serenade,
a call for procreation,
sung to the sacred other,
filling the empty darkness
of the night
before the light.


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