Old Man Tree Frog (A Poem)

Took a walk to visit with the frog that lives in the tree.

Gambel oak to be exact.

But he had turned in as we were walking up.

The branches thick with fuzz, leaves turning crispy and yellow and brown, green splotches and spindly spines.

The earth moves in a post drizzle dance

we wait under the canopy for the old frog to come back out

and croon in the night.

He sings:

I’m sorry sweetie, it’s time to say good-bye.

I’m going back to killing my time

faded, in my memories, telling myself ev-ery thing’s

gonna be alright.

randomly rambling

Im just trying to be genuinely

present, here with you.

And that’s when I realize, I gotta live the moment before I write about it.