there was a bullfrog

There was a bullfrog

And sometimes I would see him amongst
the lily pads
He, with no knowledge of the stories,
Nose just above water, pulling
bow across bass strings.

This morning, a croak suddenly burbles and

I know before looking.

---Yes, just there, a scaled tail
slinks into the pond, its
small wake nudging empty thrones.

Just yesterday I gave that frog a name.