CROAK

In the distance I hear singing;
From where exactly, I can’t be sure.
I zip and zag from side to side—
Triangulation.
Finally I find them, huddled around the lake
In their fortress which lies on the edge,
Secure,
Sealed,
Sound.
A massive chorus is in session,
But I have made a mistake;
This concert was not for guests,
Rather solely for the singers’ edification.
Another blunder makes itself apparent:
This is no mere choir;
They are warriors,
And they are organized.
A cry goes up and the soldiers retreat
Into the castle,
Behind the walls.
The choir falls silent,
One by one,
Two by two;
Rapidly,
Suddenly.
A lone watchmen is left, calling out the news:
“The stranger stands,
He has not left.
Hold your ground, and we shall see what comes of him.”
I stand and wait,
I am watched, I know it.
Finally, I decide to move on,
Wandering out of the valley and into the setting sun.
The gates are opened;
The chorus continues.

HONK

A few families scurry by,
Proud parents, all but two.
One couple herds 8 children along,
Trying to not lose the slow one
Who seems more intent on studying his shoes.
I wave;
He looks up,
But his parents warn him away.
Men dressed all in black are not to be trusted.
I keep quiet and seem kindly enough
Though, so they don’t make much of a fuss.
They continue on, the mother holding her head high;
Let her be judged for such a brood;
She couldn’t care less.
They are hers,
She nearly glows.
Behind come a few more parental units,
Pleased as punch,
Content with 5;
A quintet is plenty.
Their heads also nod and bounce a little
Enjoying the day—
Leading the way.
In the rear follow 2;
Solo, looking mournful.
Spring was not kind this year.
Following along they look wistfully at the others,
Their children dressed in yellows and oranges and browns.
If only they could have one.
But they are civil,
They are proper,
They have each other;
That is enough.