Blue eyed frog over there. I see it with my own green eyes. I wade through its gaze like an ibis across dense mud. Watching me, little frog. Why are you staring. Is it me? With my green eyes?

A pair of dragonflies out shopping. They whizz past my tired wet ears. zzzZZZZzzzz. That’s what they say. With their wings. Each clutching three or more designer paper bags with little strings for handles. They were talking about the government.

Stop getting distracted. Blue eyed frog. I look for it with my own, green, eyes. I shuffle them across the dry tree moss and hop between a branch and a leaf. Where are you little blue eyed frog. I can’t find you.

It’s winter but it’s not cold. I miss that frog.