my frog haiku

bullfrogs

crouched upon a stone

they bask in waning moonlight

the water is still

woeful jug-o-rums

their voices emanating

a final chorus

lonely he departs

ripples etching in his wake

his sleep indebted

the log embraces

here he dons his winter coat

a cordovan shade

at last sleep concedes

solstice passes overhead

                                                             but why should he care