That afternoon the dream of the toads 
rang through the elms by Little River
and affected the thoughts of men, 
though they were not conscious that 
they heard it.--Henry Thoreau 


The dream of toads: we rarely 
credit what we consider lesser 
life with emotions big as ours, 
but we are easily distracted, 
abstracted. People sit nibbling 
before television's flicker watching 
ghosts chase balls and each other 
while the skunk is out risking grisly 
death to cross the highway to mate; 
while the fox scales the wire fence 
where it knows the shotgun lurks 
to taste the sweet blood of a hen. 
Birds are greedy little bombs 
bursting to give voice to appetite. 
I had a cat who died of love.
Dogs trail their masters across con-
tinents. We are far too busy 
to be starkly simple in passion. 
We will never dream the intense 
wet spring lust of the toads. 

Added: on June 2nd, 2007 at 5:38 PM | Viewed: 1102 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Marge Piercy
Poem: Toad Dreams
Poem of the Day: Jun 2 2007

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