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Some frogs were in the sky alight,
Their hands - a wave and legs - a shade,
Their ponds were branches, roots' delight
And offspring, day's and night's cascade.
The daily yoke drooped through the cracks
Amid the webs of fingers taxed
With tasks of spreading 'bout the plain
And shielding there some heat-pressed brain.
(As if there were some function hidden
In any being 'round our own,
Some program genius, yet unknown,
The end to all the roads we've ridden.)
And I saw this in seat at ease,
Regarding, windowed, many trees.



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