Sunset over a walking bridge on a marsh.

The only way forward in the summer’s high-pitch frog trills
starts with standing still. Stay within throb-pulse volume
until it affects our blood flow, all the way
to violet-purple before night. Wait
for desire to happen. Add to the frog excitement
the leaf-stir, the river-flow.
Wait for the stars to appear from clouds
like sleepy children yawning. During this late hour,
every sound softens any terrible story,
the universe murmurs with frog-echoes,
chanting and naming their incredible desires.
One step into this magic will never be enough.
It will be alright if we stay longer, return more often.

Photo by Anthony, used and adapted under CC.