There is nothing visible to clue them in,
No sunlight, flowers, or flush of leaves,
Yet the frogs cry out from pools and puddles
Peeping up to find a mate, start life afresh
In unthought expectation of spring.
In the fog and cold rain that pelts my face—
Drops at maximum density—
Their song knows embodied what I know but
Do not act upon. Winter’s scarcity ends,
Warmth returns, and plans are now called for
To welcome the abundance of summer.