DRAWL AND HUM
Tina Mozelle Braziel
Three hundred twenty is the number
of frogs I’ve raised
and released during the pandemic.
Yes, I’m trying to impress you,
but I don’t count the dead.
The ones the hunter drove over.
The ones that dried up
with the puddle they came from.
The ones eaten by their siblings
because I filled my casserole dishes
with too many. Yes, clouds drag
their feet, clothes sour
on the line, and tomatoes bust open
in the garden. Every day
drawls and hums this song
that won’t end.
But then, the 321st froglet
climbs out, tail still swishing,
certain this world
is as humid as the last.
Ready to join the choir.