The Front Porch Frog
A frog made a home on my porch. He’s happy now,
eating bugs and spiders and I’m happy he’s eating the spiders.
The frog and I have a non verbal agreement.
I can only hope that the lawyers never get involved.
He is awash in entomology,
with his elastic green suit and his terrible sword tongue.
The porch light a siren,
brings the bounty and lead flying hordes to their doom.
Yes, we’ve come to terms, the frog and I.
People come and go. He is ambivalently amphibious.
Growing fatter by the day,
his shiny belly like a bubblegum bubble ready to pop.
Tonight he entertains a lady friend
or maybe a sibling. Frogs are tight lipped about such matters
A twist of fate and he’d be the star of a high school biology class,
gutted and splayed by some dimwitted kid with clumsy hands.
But alas, he is on my porch,
blissful with his bug eyes, bumps and and groceries
I think he feels safe, in spite of the front door traffic.
and I’m certain he know his rent is paid.
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