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Toad's Croak

It is that time of year when
the toads croak in unison.
They almost set a rhythm.
You find yourself lost among
their constant hiccups, and follow
the drifting lines you assign
to complement your thoughtlessness.
How long has it been?
Your ears strike separate notes
as the toads swallow themselves
and you and your ears begin to
remember nothing and the
sound of nothingness.
When the toad's don't ribbit,
then start the crickets.
Give the toads their long
awaited intimacy. Leave them
alone and close your modest curtains
after you gently shut the window.
They'll be sleeping soon enough.

11 Jan 11

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(64 more poems by this author)

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and oh, i didn't know there lived a toad croaking long before. i should have known
 — unknown