A pondering frog looks
out from my eyes:

dark-red, veiled blue, plums
roll to the center of a bowl

and at close horizon water-towers
hump and perch.
                           Leap

frog, to a lake: leaves
support the lilies, water holds

erect the long, strong stems,
reflects gleaming

rosy petals, pollen-yellow lili-buds,
clouds lilac-tinted and dissolving.
Back to the plums—

eggs in a blue nest—the squat
peaked assembly of towers.

What is it?
                  An accord.

Break out, frog,
Sing, you who don’t know

anything about anything.
“To dance without moving” shall be your burden.