frog spawn

 frog spawn

up to mattie’s gutter come on mun

run past the pub and the chapel run

past john shop’s chicken run run

fast past the pointed wooden pen

oozing the tar called bitumen 

full pelt down the grass to clay

the stream sped over where the

caddis fly lay and on up

the dampness flowing from the well

three red bricks high and square

to look if there is any frog spawn where

on this febuary morn of a boy borne wild 

upon the heels of a growing knowing child

oh yes knowing that the white grasses

blowing under spring’s bluest the sky 

and why oh why is the spawn so late

scare raising the crows of walk back’s fate 

all is windward on these wayward days

and days and days of visiting the well 

again and again until one day yell

it’s there! it’s there! and

handed home to my tank in my shed

where the stickleback swims alone

i said here is the spawn that will bend 

and grow and do you know 

in a few months time if we feed 

and throw in a rock or two

the legged little ones will know

that it is time to go and i will wait

all of winter’s waiting wait

until spring is once more at the garden gate 

and wings on heels we’ll run and run

to find the frogspawn under a low spring sun

its black bright eyes are blinking blinking

and thinking how the warmth returns

to a new year long in its running wild 

of that well borne wistful february child