the last summer of the leopard frog

August 8, 2012 § Leave a comment

each July
we could be found catching them in the last patch of paradise
left in our neighborhood
a soggy stamp of adventure separating the parking lot
of the Old Lutheran Church
and the property of the widow Krantz, who was rumored to have a sawed off Mossberg loaded with rock salt
should one wander, purposely or not into her kitchen garden
or was stupid enough to try to make off with a plum from the one raggedy tree remaining from
a legendary orchard

there we would be
in the leech laden water
with coffee cans for trapping
and two dollar sneakers heavy with muck, cat-tail fuzz clinging to our forearms as different songs
ran through each of our heads
songs of transition
songs of the cusp

Krantz was dead that spring
the heavy machinery of change
was stationed
by the boarded up house
as we walked through the brambles
out to where we left our bikes
I saw a couple of guys driving
posts into that soft sacred ground

the “coming soon” sign leaned
against a pick-up
announcing
Edens replacement

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