Peepers' Love Song 

It occurred to me at dusk’s dimming 

that peepers in April 

pledge solemnly,  

with each note, 

to love their bodies 

and forget the tadpoles

that will shiver out 

of their amphibian selves 

into the bridge between frozen 

and the tantrum of cattails

slime and sun

to grapple with time, 

if only for a short while. 

And we, who stand near

this stagnant swamp, 

simply long to love 

what is impossible 

to understand 

beyond the sweetest of songs  

in this embrace

of spring.