one summer, the rain forgot to come,

and the river ran low in loneliness

so my brother and I,

net in tow,

went questing for frogs along her muddy manor.

Her thick banks were too much for my toes to bear,

so I slithered among the trees,

a frog radar for the FBI

(frog baiters incorporated)

Detecting one,

I sent forth my brother

soon victory was caught,

and he held the net high -

frog legs dangling

reaching through the tangled mess toward home.

In desperate need of a wishing well,

the frog gave up,

eyes silent and breath heavy.

The noble squire panicking,

called me down,

and I had to trudge through the muck,

barefoot and terrified of leeches

to rescue a friend from never becoming a prince.