I'm listening to the frogs begin to sing

I'm listening to the frogs begin to sing
beneath the water oak, the coming fall
brings in dry air. I think I hear something

from underneath the leaves, a wandering bug
in the still night. Imagine just how pale
her skin is in the Moon, the lilting songs

she sings in love. I meditate on a rug
and prostrate myself, I pay the bondsman bail
to release me. I am but a mere thing

that wanders this hell, for what do I long?
The lotus stands, the fish are using gills
to breathe under the water. When she sings

I forget selves, like I've removed the tag
of me from my body. From within my cell
she kisses me, she is the glorious nothing

that sustains me! O hear the many frogs
from the low pond! Her love I hope to steal
with a measured posture! O how the bird's song
reminds me of nothing and everything!