There’s something special about frogs.
Squishy tadpoles
frantically escaping the fingers of a small child
too young to realize
they’re afraid of her.
mystical mutants
with arms and legs askew.
But then they change
from tiny blobs in a greenish pond
to creatures that can capture the sky
in a single leap
and to watch them is to envy them.
I only wish I could feel the world as they do.
And every summer night
they sing you to your rest
as flights of angels did for Hamlet.
My dad measured the sound once
it was as loud
as a symphony orchestra.
Loie Schiller is a College second-year majoring in English with minors in Book Studies and Dance. She is originally from a small town in Iowa but recently her family decided to move overseas to Portugal. This poem was one of a series she wrote for a Winter Term project about her childhood home to process the prospect of moving away from everything she’s known.
