When we walked out in early spring,
to flowering trees and beyond,
our easy stroll through welcome scents
was stopped beside the pond.
“Oh listen,” I heard you say and felt
you squeeze my hand. “The song!”
You heard the frogs’ refrain of love,
the peepers calling strong.
They thaw as ice does in the spring—
a frozen life revived—
and in the mud they sing to find
the warmth so long deprived.
“A resurrection song,” I said,
“of life and love anew.”
You turned to me and held me close.
“It’s not unlike we two.”