“Ode to a Toad”
Background of the story:
When I was about five years old, my family moved to a brand new house that my father had ordered custom-built for us at the north end of Manchester, NH. The land around the house was not landscaped, when we arrived, and previously had been home to hundreds of toads. I decided to “collect them.” I asked my mother for a shoe box, something to hold water, and I set off to collect toads, turning over every rock, and capturing the unwitting little things. Of course, I had to find “bugs” to feed them, too.
Steve Grace at 7 years old, the year I was born.
I thought I was doing a pretty good job. However, one morning, I woke up and found that my big brother, Steve, who was 7 years older than me, had let loose the toads. I called him a “meanie” and set up a ruckus. He explained to me that one should not keep living things in captivity because wild things want to be free. I understood then.
Ever since, I have been thrilled to see toads, including the ones that hopped across the country roads between Deerfield, NH and Bear Brook State Park in Allenstown, on summer nights. I’d spot them while driving my young son and my mother to Nature Programs at the Science Center there. Toads are attracted to hot asphalt, I believe.
Last week, we attended three consecutive nightly meetings and came home after dark. When the automatic light went on by the back door, there was a medium size toad sitting there, as if waiting for us to come home. Inspired by this sight, I went upstairs, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and was in the process of writing what I thought was a lovely poem. I had only finished the first two stanzas, when Jim came in the room, looking over my shoulder.
I said, “No!” Good poetry must be read aloud!
Here is my poem, never finished, because his advice after hearing the preliminary lines was, “Don’t give up your day job!”
Ode to a Toad
There once was a toad
outside my abode
He hopped in the lamplight
abiding.
His heart was on fire
to muck through the mire
to find “lady love” there
residing.
See, this was a stroke of true genius, but now, neither you nor I will know what happened to Mr. Toad! Did he find true love? Or, wander endlessly seeking it? I leave the situation for you to ponder.
Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications
