FRIDAY 55
Long ago I sat with Nana by the campfire at night
singing in round,
Hear the lively song of the frogs in yonder pond
Crick crick crickety crick
BUUUUURRRR-UM!
Spring peepers joined in chorus as backup.
Decades later I hear their rhythmic lullaby
rising again from the swamp
on an early Spring night
and smile.
DA COUNT
Long ago I sat with Nana by the campfire at night
singing in round,
Hear the lively song of the frogs in yonder pond
Crick crick crickety crick
BUUUUURRRR-UM!
Spring peepers joined in chorus as backup.
Decades later I hear their rhythmic lullaby
rising again from the swamp
on an early Spring night
and smile.
DA COUNT
Lots of folks around here get excited when they see the first robin of Spring. While that may be a good sign of warm weather to come I smile most when I drive past the swamp on our winding road and hear the hum of spring peepers. Lots of folks who move out here from the city think it's crickets making all that racket but I set them right. Earlier this week I was on a phone call from a friend in a part of the country not blessed with such a proliferation of singing frogs. I pulled the car over and stuck the phone out the window to share the music. I could almost hear my friend's smile. If you want to hear it too there's an audio file in the link I provided. Just multiply it by thousands to imagine the swamp near my house. Nothing against the robins but the frog choir and the memories of a happy time and place soothe me into blissful slumber.
