The dense morning fog

Rolled over the subtle little pond

In the midst of the fog and the pond’s bond

Awakened a tiredly little frog

Sitting on a sturdy deteriorating log

Peering out to across the pond, he spotted a nest in which a bird had spawned

Deciding he was hungry as he yawned

Perhaps I should catch an insect, was an idea in which he was fond

He proceeded to search for an insect in this moist

Perhaps a vermin could win his choice

Entering some bramble as he hopped off the log

When off in the distance a cricket sang in its finest voice

All sound was overtaken by this cricket’s invasive noise

He rushed toward the cricket in a quiet little jog

This cricket would make a good meal for the tiredly little frog

And over a moment’s pass, not a sound could be heard in the dense morning fog