when the frogs came down
like fat magnolia leaves with legs
and eyes, they came in droves
and landed with a squishy splat
filling the streets with bones and blood
and if you were lucky enough
to survive their onslaught
on windshields, thru skylights
you woke to a dirty world
somehow different--
walking as you must
your own crunchy path
to forgiveness.


�2006 by Ray Sweatman