So tenderly my wife
held out to me
this small brown frog
that she'd found swimming
in our hot tub
left unheated for the summer
placed the creature gingerly
in my cupped hands
I felt it squirm
and then transferred it
to an empty coffee mug
from which it managed
to escape by squeezing through
the drinking hole in the mug's lid

After retrieving it a second time
I brought it
to our tiny backyard pond
where he or maybe she
without a moment's hesitation
made the move
described so beautifully
by Basho
a quick leap and the ensuing
sound that water makes
a quiet plunk which
told me that the frog
was safely home
but what still lingered
was the sound
the single note of music
that the water made
on taking in this leaping life
a sound I'm hearing
if just faintly
even now