In north-central Vermont, this past week has been one of the most exciting times of the natural year. The frogs are awake! Wood frogs, bullfrogs, spring peepers, and more have been emerging from their lengthy slumber to greet the universe with clicks and croaks and cacophonous song. The eggs have already begin to appear–masses of translucent globes with a tiny dark tadpole taking shape at the center, before our eyes. 
In celebration, we offer this poem by Iris Tree from 1923. Tree was a true bohemian of the '20s. Known as a poet, actress, and art model, she posed for Modigliani and was the subject of one of his most famous female nudes. She also posed for Man Ray, Vanessa Bell, and other esteemed artists. Jacob Epstein's sculpture of her is on display at the Tate Gallery in London. She also appeared in John Huston's Moby Dick and Fellini's La Dolce Vita. But far from the city lights of her glamorous life, here she turns her attention to the sweet and simple spring mating ritual of the humble country frog.
The Frog
He climbs down murky stairs,
With splayed feet pushing back dark curtains,
Green fans and slowly-waving filmy arrases.
White globes float up from him,
Bubbles glossed with twilight and moonlight.
Shadows writhe under him,
Shooting duskily, poised
With tremulous fins
And wriggling darting tails.
His eyes stare with broad search-lights,
His mouth gulps, he sucks and swallows;
His belly feels the slime
Glide polished, yielding, secret.
He kicks and paddles with long gestures,
Continuing their ripple, swaying the weeds apart.
He lies on the smooth black surface.
His eyes know the starlight,
And he hears the barking and croaking of the lovers.
He is lusty and swells with passion
Waddling up the lily-pads,
Watching the speckled flash where the females leap,
Stretching their yellow bellies, jerking their legs.