that late afternoon cloud refusing

to boil up to a thunder storm

or

the jonquils near the front door

every spring the tight little buds

turn brown and wither

or

the one misshapened button

on my red blouse, the one loose

shingle on the neighbor’s roof, the

one french fry under the driver’s

seat

or

one spring a bull frog took

residence in the neighbor’s pool

he croaked and crooned all night

harmonizing with an orchestra of

friendly crickets, but I didn’t have the

heart to tell the little critters that

the bullfrog only kept them around

in case he needed a quick snack,

because, you know, there’s one in

every crowd