Frog Song

 /   /  By Emma Birches
Stone Soup Magazine
May/June 2005

By Nicole Guenther

I step out into the clouded dusk
the dark light pushes up
against my skin

the steady contribution
of frog song
pours into the air,
making the measuring cup
of the night

the rock is cold
beneath me, reminds
me to shiver.

the last light
swiftly falls
underneath the trees
and I capture it
in angular lines on this paper.

the air grows
and huddles nearer.
stirs, exhales in one
gust of breath, anticipates
the night.

the last strip
of gold is disappearing
and here, on the outskirts
of the sanctuary
of the porch light,
my shadow is huge
on the ground.
slapped across
my page, the dark
mimic of my pencil

now the sun remains
only as a half-inch-wide
ribbon of dull orange
beyond the trees

and the frogs announce
the sun will set
tomorrow, too.

but I am hunched
here on the edge
of the world,
and the sun just fell

Frog Song Nicole Guenther

Nicole Guenther, 13
Vancouver, Washington

About the Author

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