Tribe of Frogs
by John S. Bowman, Jr.
Though guest of honor
Frogs speak the same language
In unison the frogs sang:
The first human words I heard
I could speak only a few words
of my host's language.
Ignorance can be a lonely thing
at dinner. So many spoke
and I understood so little,
spoke less. Outside
as the sun went down
frogs began to sing.
everywhere, a noisy opera
of water and land.
Meet us in the middle
and we'll make love, the males sang.
Find us on land and we'll kiss,
the females returned.
Love first, then love!
Making no sense until
sung over and over
something was revealed.
were a simple phrase. My hosts,
happy to hear me, made an effort
to use words I knew. They folded
around me like grandmother's quilt
and a warm fire. I was not
so lonely as I thought;
in their welcoming arms the future sang
like an encore of frogs
happily croaking about the strength of love.
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