the frog

I was the last to see the frog alive.

The story begins with my walk down the road. I haven’t been for a walk in a while but it seemed like a nice activity to start my boring Sunday of laziness. I walked down the drumlin and walked along the road through the woods. It’s a marshy area and always echoes a flock of ducks that are never seen. Robins and bugs consume you. If your not swatting a million bugs from your face, you’re busy watching the Robins pluck worms and fly from tree to tree.

Sometimes I see flattened snakes on the road surrounded by their guts and when I walked the other way for a change, I saw a dead sparrow lying peacefully on the edge of the road. But today was different. In the distance I saw a lump of dark on the road, I thought of what it could possibly be: a mouse, a lump of dirt, a dead bird. But as I approached it, it was a fully alive frog sitting on the road. It seemed at ease with me passing it and I hesitated poking it with my foot. I’m supposed to be eco-friendly and poking at innocent frogs is very juvenile, but the thought crossed my mind. I passed it wondering why it had chosen to hang out on the road but continued my walk telling my self all about my adventures in England and how I got lost in Liverpool Street Station and how I met my Australian buddy Chris at Madame Tuesadues and how my next trip will be to Spain or something like that. But in the distance I heard a man cutting grass and to avoid interaction with people I decided that I had walked far enough and turned around.

My thoughts proceeded to wander and before I realized I was back to the frog again. This time it was surrounded by it’s blood and guts. I wasn’t aware of what vehicles had passed but obviously the road wasn’t a good place for it to hang out.