On a sloshy day,
Crossing Anacostia by van
One afternoon quite
Gray (with the window down);
My right ear
(my sharpest one)
Caught a piping drone
To my great liking.
It shimmered through the march grass
Soon we had passed back
To traffic’s moan
Ergo, should climate death come on,
My frogs shall e’er be
Gone.
