This month I join a slew of poets who will send a postcard a day with an original poem written on it. This one goes to Lenora Good. The card had a frog on it, so here’s what emerged:
Torpor is another
of the frog’s proficiencies—
that pond-bottom state where
respiration slows and the heart calms.
The work is not yet complete.
Best to dream of a bow pulled
frog to tip and back in two long notes,
so that the frog is both the finish and the start.
Or dream of greatcoats
with knotted rows of fasteners.
Or rue the months of knitting tugged apart,
so that “frogging” is both
attachment and unraveling.
The frog knows this as she burrows deeper—
quiet, so quiet she can hear minnows
gliding above her,
so still she can feel the thrum
of her own story—
a yarn, worthy of beginning again.
© Katherine Grace Bond