It So Happens
At the pond a frog
keeping his whereabouts secret
but near
oh yes in the grass
almost under my feet
he sounds off with a sudden burst
a string of dry burps running up hard against the ear
how I’d spell it if I were writing it down:
erkkk erkkk
erkkk
erkkk erkkk erkkk
interrupts my leaning-on-the-fence slack time rest stop
but I don’t mind
In fact
I like having the company.
6/13/19
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
You describe the sound of the frog perfectly.
Thank you. I had to think a long time to try to figure out how to write it and I still think of course, there is no translating it to English! In the end, I realized that when I hear them, I imitate their noises (the child in me emerges) and I enjoy “talking” with them.
erkkk erkkk erkkkkk (translation: great poem)
Thank you. You know, yesterday morning we saw a frog crossing the trail. It had stopped. I gave it a tiny nudge to get it to hop on off the trail so bikes would not run over it. You could see its little wet footprints in the gravel. Not to mention it was beautiful.