,
she talks to frogs
and speaks the braille
of trees,
fills her hands with the
wispy ghosts of clouds
and sings
out loud in cobalt blue
and pine-pressed green.
these things,
they save her. they steep
her deep in ocean salt
and moon
-spilled tide and starstung
sky. she’s swallowing the how;
she knows
………………..the why.
..
in april, she poems. and communes with frogs.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
kaykuala
she’s swallowing the how;
she knows the why.
She seems to be at peace with the frog. She is just waiting to set it free perhaps
Hank
Lovely poem. Amazing photo. One of your best, imho…
‘the Braille of trees’ excellent!
“speaks the braille
of trees”!!!