Four Thousand Frogs

When four thousand frogs
frolic in February
thoughts of amphibian 
delight turn to nightmares
of clear embryonic gelato
clinging to bygone days
when spring was

and February was not
for frogs

When apple blossoms
appear in March
and the last bees freeze
it goes unnoticed
by culprits

in SUVs

When the last trees fall
to print propaganda
popularizing slogans of
cannibalistic capitalists

with a hunger for more
ever more
dead dinosaurs
it is natural to weep
at the sound of

—Rob Ganson, Washburn, WI