INTRODUCING:
Spring Frog. In Cherokee, pronounced “Too-en-Twah” and spelled “Du’Tsu”
Dusty’s Reflections
I sing with a thousand voices! Nay! A million, billions,
Emerged, I have from muddy oozes, Arrayed in rainbows but mostly green,
The slippery, glistening mottled amphibious spirit of the Herald.
Trumpeting Demeter’s joy, Persephone’s return.
Du’Tsu, Du’Tsu, Du’Tsu
I cry from pond, and pool and puddle.
Du’Tsu, Du’Tsu, Du’Tsu
Calling down rains of fire, thunder tongues, lightening!
Embodying the will of hope, The Tauran resurrection rebegins!
I lay in folds of hay and wet grasses,
Cannily dry and cozy, though hungry;
Building fires at night in May alone for Vision Quest-
And three times I was amused at your arrival;
Turned dumb but loving eyes upon you and
Knew not that you were what I would be Named.
We took down the tarps to dry,
Exposing the bowed, skeletal willowy frame,
House cleaning the sacred lodge I saw you again,
Golden cousin, reflection of my calling,
A remnant of a dying species perhaps?
Defying two headed mutations for the moment,
At peace, a jewel-like creature
Mystically transposed from Puerto Rican extinctions to Ceremonial Hill,
to show me one of my selves.
I know others, with other callings, yet all the same:
Rabbit, Stag, Fox, Squirrel, Name every creature,
Hawk on the Wind,
My darling sweet eldest son, Racing Waters, the happy, complex robust Dolphin, Elijah.
My darling, sweet youngest son, White Winds: the wise in his innocence, refreshing Snowy Owl, Isaiah.
All mirrors of the Messenger and the Message, (The Word)
All offspring of the One.
But Du’Tsu, Du’Tsu
I cannot escape except in fleeting nightly swims
In womb waters.
Look back:
Just up Blue Hill Drive is
The Swamp—such idyllic stomping grounds for Scott, and Todd and Brett.
Huck Finn friends and me, Betsy.
Catchers Par Excellence,
Sneaking with artful, rock steady stealth,
Upon the round eyed innocents floating on dragon fly surfaces.
Slam the Hand. Slam the Hand. Slam the Hand.
Into wondrous, primal riches, sunriches
Breathing in heady, arcane gases,
Fingers delighting in clenching the soft under belly of a poor petrified, fearful frog.
Never knowing why fate put you in my back yard.
Gift of Gifts. Identity. My Calling. My name. Delicious meaning.
Du’Tsu aspires, is Called:
She has come to the People to Rebirth the Purity and Light in Mankind.
So haven’t we all?
Du’Tsu, Du’Tsu, Du’Tsu
I am one Singer that would Call to kindling the Whitsun fires
In hearts of humans, heralding the Second Coming,
Mirroring a humble creature that, Jeepers Peepers, does so every Spring– the Frog.
