PATRICK DORRIAN - POEMS

I am a 65 yr old former teacher. I live in Belfast Ireland. I am married and have 3 adult children. Writing started out as a stress reducer when I was teaching but having gotten hooked I am still striving to improve.

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                                               Spawn

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It was wet Spring when we found the pool.
Lodged, between stream and wood,
Invisible to all but inquisitive children.

It was the squeal that alerted me,
So I plunged through nettles and briars
To find Laura, knee deep in the pool,
Poking excitedly with her fingers
At the bubbles of Frog spawn.

Briefly, I told her what she had found,
Naturally she thought finders keepers
And it was a tearful goodbye she bade
Only on the promise of a swift return.

Back home we googled the life cycle
From spawn to a Tadpole to Frog,
She could hardly contain her excitement
Weekly, every Sunday to check on the pool.


                                              Tadpoles



That second Sunday, at the pond,
she noticed the bubbles gone..
Instead, she found the little swimmers,
Their tails thrashing away from her hand.

Again, she wanted some to take home.
But unprepared, we had no net,
Nor jars, not even Mother's permission.

Within a week the tadpoles had legs,
Another week the tails had gone
And soon the frogs were dispersed around the poolside.
Each visit that Summer, she tried to catch some.
Each approach by her was met by a large hop'
Sometimes matched with a splash.

All too soon the Summer receded.
The frog numbers diminished,
Foul play by predators and cruel boys
Quieted the little pond. Spoiled
The Sunday adventure,
A child learned a lesson of life.