Frog. Little Eden.
By Wendy Battin
Amphibious, at home
on the surface
tension, in
over my head, not
out of my depth, not deep
deep deep,
not in far. Not
high and dry, not
even in treetops,
where I sing water
into the root-hairs.
It seeks me, will not
forsake me.
Hand over hand it climbs.
It breaks
the first law of water,
all for my song.
Into the trunk and up, it greens
the leaves that the leaves may be
-emerald me.
The leaves breathe it out and I drink,
then sing
lest the water forget to rise
and the world be kindling.
Copyright Credit: Wendy Battin, "Frog. Little Eden." from Wendy Battin: On the Life & Work of an American Master. Copyright © 2020 by Wendy Battin. Reprinted by permission of Literary Estate of Wendy Battin.
Source: Wendy Battin: On the Life & Work of an American Master (Unsung Masters Series)