Frog Lane Nights



I grew up in France and the thunderstorms could be dramatic. I like writing about random, ordinary things that have a lasting effect on your life.



Car light hit the ground in pelts
And blazed the blue dusk pools
A swirl of rain our summer dealt
Meteo moods of ruleless rule

Dad changed gear, tense like an arrow
We shot up, neck hairs bristled
Backseat babes huddled in row
Ear by window, wind a whistle

A corner of corn caused a curve
I held my brother’s baby finger 
Dad swore, scared of second swerve
The window sung in cracks and trickle

All at once the sky dropped dead
And the snap lightning lightened 
And blue dusk bled orange red
And the meteo moods tightened

Yet Dad still swayed and swerved
Now by choice and not arrowed
Streaming frogs on lane merged
Old ones puddled and harrowed

Baby brother released his finger
As we watched the frogs flee
Saved by our clement driver
And his innate integrity

- Letitia Prescott

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