The Stare of the Frog
I'm sitting in a field using my knife to try and pull open a piece of metal that won't stay down on my gun.
The air is slightly cold but there's an overall warmth in the air.
I'm sitting in this wobbly chair on this lumpy field
When a frog hops into my sight.
I've only gotten five hours of sleep and my bagged eyes fix upon this mysterious frog
All he does is stare me down without a blink
Does he think I can't see him?
His camouflage isn't very efficient in this dead grass
But still he stares at me with his one solid black eye.
It's been several minutes and he hasn't moved an inch.
Is this God as an animal, punishing me for hunting?
My eyes were so sore from the lack of sleep that they were watering
My eyes weren't filled with water as usual,
tears just streamed down my face as if I was crying.
In the distance I heard church bells thundering
They felt a great distance away but the reverberation was so audible and clear.
Am I for whom the bell tolls?
The church bells, this frog specter, the loaded gun in my lap, and the sharp knife by my side all make me worried my time has come
I veer left to my father one hundred yards away
Could he accidentally shoot me?
Is this what is going to happen?
My father is much more careful and wise
He wouldn't dare make a mistake like that.
I turn my head to see the frog and its vehement stare but it was gone
The church bells are stopped and there's no sign of the frog
I crane my neck slightly and see it hop out from behind a lump of grass
Maybe this is all in my head.
After all I heard some church bells and saw a dumb frog looking at me.
It's funny how the mind connects things into what it wants to see, or what it doesn't want to see.