Here is something strange and Ancient as treefrogs. A dozen tongues, meaty and wet Two dozen lungs, each a damp pink pump For air, in and out. Cheeks, two dozen, long or short, thin, or weighted Ears for coherency's sake. Twenty-four lips, various. All these delicate cuts. fine flesh assembled in one Generous box. Informed by A bright laughing river of common mind, And impeccable brain-pulse timing for Time In a midnight hall or family room or hill camp. Each fire joins in and the corners reach the center, flames licking, And a swelling music is born, singing "Wade in the Water" Or come from Alabammy or McDonald's Farm or Way, haul away! Or the Johnson boys.Or just brek-keerex! These neat meat pieces driven By a dozen hearts Bridging eternity by singing. Miracles never cease. Even tree-frogs know.