The frog sat under the log. You watched from the porch in the fog of the night. The sunset dimmed the light. And you watched as the moon reached a new height.
Soon the frog had vanished, just because something had anguished the bright. Yet you still stare up at the sky. Hoping that one day you'll understand why.
Why the wind flies away, and why the trees sadly whistle in their own special way.
Why is the sky so dark, and why did the sun have to run,
without leaving the moon with a tool,
to bright with light the dark of this inky black night?
