In Praise of Frogs

Praise to the feet that are webbed,
to the thin wide grin,
to the tongue that picks flies
from the air.

Praise to the camouflaged skin
and a throat so thin
it blows up like a sack
to be popped. 

And praise to the leap and the hop, 
the long-winded swim
under weeds
where the sunlight is dim;

and the winter, when
the frog goes to sleep in the mud,
as if
no longer alive;

but, then, in Spring
when the air is no longer chill,
re-exerts his will
and, resurrected, revives.