I saw him crouched on a mossy log
Below, the brook babbled
And a dragonfly flitted ‘cross that flossy bog
Its shimmering shapely body dappled
In the iridescent fog of the morning
Meanwhile on the log he dabbled
Our smokey jokey croaky blokey
The glistening glands of a bloated bull frog.
Rivit he said from a bubble on his head
Before plunging in for his morning swim
And then diving down without a sound
Never to be found.