As flies bounce on the surface of a pond.
The frog is not assuming a human position
Like slouched against a sycamore
As he would in animated form.
He’s a real frog, perched on a rock
Moist skin shimmering in sunlight
His yellow eyes study the pages.
A leg is dipped briefly into the water to prevent overheating
With great difficulty he turns each page
Using his nose and webbed hands.
After he reads the final tale, he slips into the water
And considers what he’s read
Stories pass through his mind
As the sun scorches away a cloud.
That night, in a sea of tadpoles
He dreams of a princess to kiss.