Weak minded people can’t focus. They continuously reach for anger having nothing to do with the point. They yell. They become emotionally unstable, and they have no remorse during the moment, because they are unintelligent. They are the fog that creates arguments. -The boy reached further into the water. The leaf was muddy. It cleared and he watched the brownness of it while the water filtered away. A frog jumped near and asked, ‘Why the face?’ The boy replied, ‘I was upset with someone.’ The frog asked, ‘Who?’ the boy replied, ‘Myself.’
-M. Taggart copyright 2017
If we don’t think like you this makes us a degenerate, or slave. What’s next. I’m imagining your campaign. It’s already ugly. Grow the apple farthest from this tree and please let’s not forget where it came from. A young girl hung her head in shame. She walked along the beach alone. Hurt. She happened upon the frog. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked. ‘I’m doing everything in my moment to be exactly me. What are you doing?’ asked the frog. The young girl studied the frog. ‘I’m being sad because I’m a degenerate.’ ‘And who called you a degenerate?’ ‘The man who didn’t like my dress. I told him I wore it for the sharks and that I wanted to grow up and swim with them and know them. That’s when the man told me I was a degenerate.’ ‘It’s best to never know that man. That man has forgotten where his dress swam.’ said the frog.
We were wandering our woods, passed the ravine, and near the big river than home. We came upon a tree that was sick. Its bark was pealing and we wanted to help. We kicked the bark with our boots. The pealing bark flew into bushes and ferns. We kicked around the base of the tree and started to kick higher to remove all the bark that we could. The frog approached and promptly asked, ‘What are you doing?’ We replied, ‘We’re helping this tree.’ The frog said, ‘Clearly you are not. Can’t you see? All you are doing is kicking this tree.’
There’s a bench at the end of the path. The bench faces a line of pine trees. Just on the other side of the trees lies the answers. Someday we’ll sit on the bench and discuss what’s to know. A frog hops near. We ask the frog if we ought to wait before we walk within the trees and he replies, ‘Wait. Wait. If you wait enough you’ll remember to wait and forget to not.’ We asked the frog what that means because we weren’t sure we heard him right and the frog told us, ‘Something will because you asked.’
He had said much but much was said without seeing. He wasn’t my friend though he thought so. In fact he thought we ought to be best of friends. Mud has a funny color and at most times we cannot see it. A hole deepens and we approach and ask if we might want to follow it down to see what’s to find. We ask, ‘Should we?’ and wait and the trees care very little about our question. However, the frog is again here and replies, ‘If you were to lay your small face against the mud and listen you might know before asking.’
From one home, to another. Light ears and Dark ears. Both fought. I’m supposed to what? Here we are- children. We’re looking at a fence, waiting for a cat. One has half an ear. A frog died in the make-shift swimming pool. That was nearly our first home. It’s hard to remember which home was our home. Yet, we both, are expected to produce exceptional happenings. Who’s to hold our fort? It doesn’t matter. I once fell from a tree. We’d built a fort with hammers and nails. I lay, asleep, and there he was, catching me while rocks waited below. Here, I’ll be, for him. Brothers.
While walking, I again spotted the frog in the road. I asked the frog, “Which way ought I turn when I’m there?” The frog replied, “Thousands of turns lay ahead and the one which mattered was now.” The frog went on, “It’s difficult living a thousand lives ahead.”
People bore me. Small brains. No memory. Then I see a frog. It jumps because I step near it. It jumps again because it wants to get to the water in front of it. Then, the frog asked me what I was doing. That was odd. Normally, people don’t ask what I’m doing, let alone a frog. I said, “I was just being me.” The frog told me, “that’s enough of a challenge,” and continued on to the water. – M. Taggart.