Classic Poem

The tree frog
sits
on a green leafy branch
and stares at me with bright orange persimmon eyes
and a goofy expression that says,
“I’m a tree frog, what did you expect? ”

His yellow gumby-like legs
and bulbous sticky fingers
are poised and
ready to jump
straight out of the calendar
and onto my keyboard.

Ah, the things that go through your head
when divining for inspiration.


(Previously published in Creative Voice, Feb.2000)