Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Did you see the green green grass Reflected in the green-aged glass Of windows where green algae grows Slip-slimy on the side? Did you see the green green frog Hop out the gray-green covered pond And slip on mud, then slimily Climb out, prince to his bride? Didja kiss ‘im?

Alone downstairs, window taped against the cold, night falling, eyes fixed to computer, the only sound is tapping keys. Then, hop… Tug my ear-lobe; what? Hope it’s not family home for food. A frog spits up at me. Spiteful, I lob it at—closed—window. Frog becomes prince, demands dinner.