at night the frogs

at night the frogs croaked,
first time for a year, after
long and frozen sleep.
the garden moves, the cat
hunts, the mice hide, the moles,
and birds nest in the bushes,
their small hearts flutter,
i listen, i hear them beat,
there is a pulse of spring
in all growing, coming out
of the earth, filling all bitter
and sweet and unconscious,
and the frogs call the females,
then will sit on their bums,
tadpoles will fill the pond,
swim in silence, eat and be eaten,
moon and sun will watch, i feel
all here in all and the wind
will move the water, flowers
rise towards the stars and roots
breathe underground, gnaw the earth,
there is nothing out there to
regret, to resist, to think, all
is relentlessly innocent, and
now i must sleep.
at night the frogs,
birds on waking to light.