they have never seen
or collected one by one
bullfrogs hopping into the water
quicker than a wind shift

we pace like predators
around the pond
tiny whispered voices containing
excitement over bulging eyes

there are no mountains here
only hills so dense with trees
you’d never see the rocky bottoms
when we’re so used to rocky tops

instead horses swing reluctant tails
in air as thick and slow as syrup
and we watch a turtle slither on a log
and frog after frog hop into our hearts.