There’s a stillness
Frogs possess, and practice, as
They sit in perfect silence, motionless—
Waiting, waiting, waiting,
Perhaps willing, luring
Telepathically, the next meal:
A bug, an insect, a crawling thing, a
Flying thing, a skating thing.
For eons, evolution has endowed them,
Perfected and honed,
This simple and innate ability
Which eludes most all of Earth’s creatures—
The ability to sit, in silence, in stillness, in
Patience.