Friday, 4 April 2008
In the darkness of late evening in the cool wind driven rain
The frogs are croaking their chorus in the watery pond and drain
Winter is their breeding season and on rainy nights on water logged ground
Under the cover of darkness they fill the air with the sound
Of their excitement and passion they croak and whistle and sing
And their young will hatch and grow into froglets in the warm days of the spring,
All night they keep up their chorus under the dark winter sky
For the joys of re-creation you hear them whistle and cry.
When you shine your torch they grow silent they fear the power of the light
And though you know where they might be you can't see them they keep well hidden from sight
And as you walk off they start singing they know that danger has passed by,
They with the gift of survival tiny, elusive and shy.
All through the night you can hear them as well as sometimes in the day
These tiniest of little amphibians none so elusive as they
In the damp watery places they croak and whistle and sing
And in a few weeks from now you won't hear them as they will have dispersed by the spring.
Posted by Sweetpea in France at 10:28