DON1 - FERGUS FIELDHOPPER PHENOMENAL FROG
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Born in a puddle on the damp eastern bank
Of the great western railway where the atmosphere stank
Of sulphurous substances and rotting pulp
An oily young frog made his way to the swamp.
Driven by instinct and phenomenal strength
He climbed over ballast and was blackened the length
Of his slick slimy body by old engine oil
Discarded by locos polluting the soil.
Intuitively aware of the dangers ahead
And of the moribund nature of paths that are tread
By fierce deadly predators lying in wait
The morphoun tadpole slithered like bait.
More like a newt than a fully formed frog
And almost all spent by the arduous slog
Of over and under the stones and the rails
He made it across to the western swamp trail.
Crawling through undergrowth mulchy and dense
Barely alert to the dark and immense
Spider fly waiting with legs akimbo
Ready to strike when our hero went slow.
But nearing the base of the great monster’s leg
The young frog’s true senses filled him with dread
And he dashed below a cluster of leaves
Escaping the thrust of the spider fly’s spears.
Deep in the darkness he sensed again
The presence of some other creature and then
Bounded in the path of another young frog
And together they left in search of the bog.
Not far to go then they came into view
Of a menacing fincher that eyed up the two
Young amphibians climbing and tumbling down
As they splashed into water and mud thick and brown.
The laughed and they played and splashed, how they splashed
And they knew that their journey was over at last
They found the safe haven their travels were for
The true pond of their ancestors, family and more.
Safe from the perils of nature at last
The brave little froglets forgot what had passed
And looked forward to living and playing and fun
In the swampy bog pond at the end of the run.
© Don1 2011