I wandered down the forest lane
Just to see what joys I'd find.
The path was dry from lack of rain
And rimmed by plants of every kind.
A little frog came hopping by,
Focused on undisclosed intent.
With no response to my brief "Hi"
He kept on hopping without relent.
A group of other forest folks
Were in a circle on the ground.
I thought that they were telling jokes
As frog hopped to a grassy mound.
No one invited me to sit.
None held up a big welcome sign.
I felt a chilling quite a bit
And went back home some friends to find.
Joyce I. Johnson lives in the beautiful Skagit Valley of Washington State. She owns a small farm and rents her land to a bulb grower. She is surrounded by beauty in the spring from the tulips and daffodils that inspire much of her poetry. Joyce celebrated her 96th birthday in July of 2014.