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Three frogs appeared
by the side of our house
next to the woodpile.
They were motionless,
but speaking.
My brothers and I watched them.
The first blanket of snow
covered them,
this small family of frogs.
They moved under the wood
in the company of spiders.
The cat was let out
one morning and came back
with a frozen frog
hanging from her mouth.
On Christmas day
my brothers and I went out
and had a snowball fight.
I saw frog tracks in the snow
ending in the middle of the yard.
We put their ice-cold bodies
in a milk bag
and threw it in the trash.
by David Clink
from: Come-on from the Horse on 7th Avenue, ©2002
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