Moonly Froghopping
Tonight the sky is rich. The moon is haloed in diffusing silverlight. Humidity works such magic: softly the moth-white lunar disk bleeds into the darkness.
A frogling hops up the cement walk. She's tiny, brown and perfect -- or was she a he? Either way, she leaves me standing in the dark, looking down at the walk and up at the moon.
A frogling hops up the cement walk. She's tiny, brown and perfect -- or was she a he? Either way, she leaves me standing in the dark, looking down at the walk and up at the moon.
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