Small pond under the tree
dark, deep
filled with rainwater
and relief

One frog
only one
has made it home
Resting in the soupy duck ****
by a fallen branch
in muck of rotting leaves

Floating

Isolated

in quiet of the green

A queen

Does not call for mate
as if she knows
they are not listening

Having found the ones they need
...and so she
being so different
in her view
of on/off fireflies
by night
off
on
always
in their searching of July

Like days
...of goldfinches
with cursive flight
that sweep the day in loopy strokes
that mirror close their seeking song

Frog has found
...Peace
can be so precious