Forgotten Ground Regained
Toads' Porch
Steadily it mounts · from Mildred to Dorothya clean trail · over clinking rocks,iron-stained, oxidized, under my boots.Half way up, held on a ledgeof wild onions · and water meadow,is the toads’ porch, where the path tarries,asks me to stop · and eat my lunch.
Sitting on soft · and seeping grasseswhere a rivulet runs · right to the edge,I glance out · over the glacial valleyand watch my hosts · with wary eye,=sidewise looking · lightly enoughthey will not notice · or need to jump.
Copyright © David B. Ring, 2010
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