A Cargo of Green Hearts
Wood frogs beneath the floodplain
lie leaf-litter frozen hard as ingots still
and still so tight and hard the silver
maple buds you could nail one through a plank
while softshell turtles asleep as stones have
paved the river's muddy bed for months
still living? or breathless-dead? you ask
it's all attitude, what you think and how
you think it, a glass filled by half or just half emptied
is this love so sadly stripped away by steely ice and
clawing wind a sleeping seed or a cold dead stone--
you choose: do nothing
or love this world and all that's living take
that frozen frog that is your heart
and blow on it like an alchemist bent on turning
hopeless lead to burning gold.
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