Poem for Saturday and Frogs in Fall

The Tree Toad
By John Gardiner C. Brainard

I am a jolly tree toad, upon a chestnut tree;
I chirp, because I know that the night was made for me;
The young bat flies above me, the glow-worm shines below,
And the owlet sits to hear me, and half forgets his woe.
I'm lighted by the fire-fly, in circles wheeling round;
The caty-did is silent, and listens to the sound;
The jack-o'-lantern leads the way-worn traveller astray,
To hear the tree toad's melody until the break of day.
The harvest moon hangs over me, and smiles upon the streams;
The lights dance upward from the north, and cheer me with their beams;
The dew of heaven, it comes to me as sweet as beauty's tear;
The stars themselves shoot down to see what music we have here.
The winds around me whisper to ev'ry flower that blows,
To droop their heads, call in their sweets, and every leaf to close;
The whip-poor-will sings to his mate the mellow melody:
'O! hark, and hear the notes that flow from yonder chestnut tree.'

-------- 

Apparently some kind of polar vortex pushed in the lovely cool air we had all day Friday. It looked and smelled like fall and was a glorious day to walk outside. I worked on a bunch of photo projects -- I can't believe it's already calendar and holiday card season. 

We watched a bunch more Schitt's Creek, right up into the fifth season. I will be sad when we have watched the whole thing! It was a welcome distraction from the Astros game, arrgh. At least the Dodgers are winning. Some of the last frogs of the season from the canal: