thousands of tadpoles
all growing limbs and plump disposable tails
cluster along the edge of my pond
i watch daily as
the squiggly black points of life
attempt to ripen
into a throng of frogs
in just three months
their song should soak the evening
heavy ricochet between the weeds
but when the time comes
for the moistened orchestra to strike
a sharp silence spreads
i lean out of my room
and realize a well-fed family of snakes
is just as much a miracle
as a fully-stocked pond of frogs
