Those little creatures

With glue on their skin

Colour of the mint leaf before summers Goblin eyes, staring, meditating,

Wisely looking on the world.

Tirelessly squatting, waiting;

Webbed feet ready to spring,

Blithe bubbles of happiness Creating ripples in the puddles.

Where have the frogs gone?

Spring-soldiers; awake from slumber,

On the alarm of Earth’s eternal spin Uncovering, unmasking, exhaling.

Polliwogs metamorphose-all things change

Croaking for the flowers to blossom;

Croaking for the seedlings to sprout.

Croaking to welcome the showers.

Where have the frogs gone?

Mysterious messengers of Nature

Playful splashes of colour

Founts of tickling mischief-Filling their own busyness,

The little ones tentatively hopping,

The old- leaping slow and cautious.

Gone to the margins of lands;

Like pedestrians from the roads.

No complaint, no defiance, no noise.

Where have the frogs gone?