First the conductor croaks the measure
And the fragile silence breaks
The rest pick up their entrances
Hear the music each one makes
A rousing march, a soft, slow dance
What varied songs they play
An outdoor concert is perfect
For ending a warm summer's day
Croaks and ribbits fill the air
Building in speed and sound
The chorus subsides, the soloist trills
His practice voice echoes around
Crescendo, decrescendo, rest
The satisfied maestro croaks "Not bad"
The finished musicians then disperse
And go back to their lily pads
Return to: Animal Rights Poetry