I’m being watched intently.
A pair of hungry newts
seem to think I could be dinner.
Constantly turning their necks,
they keep me in their gaze,
plotting how to catch me.
Suddenly I panic,
are they the frog’s decoy?
This evening I’m working alongside the tanks that contain our son‘s pets. I’m worried that they might be hatching a plan…
(10.12.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Plump, olive green and shiny under the lamp
the frog sits in its tank and smiles a vacant
smile at me. For now it sleeps the sleep of
the idle, all its needs will be provided.
Occasionally it shuffles, rearranges
limbs, then settles down once more exhausted.
I’m not convinced a prince would pucker lips,
but if he did, what metamorphosis might
occur? Please welcome our new prince the toad!
I’m busy working on an entry to a local poetry competition, so here’s a quick one based on our pet White’s Tree Frog.
(11.05.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Ode for the Day 