Walking across an African field at night, flashlight spearing my path, I hear the sound of a dripping tap. Boink! There are no standpipes in the open veld. My spotlight finds a tiny frog, his mating call the perfect imitation of something he can never have heard.
water on porcelain
bathroom speaks
life in darkening skies
Poetic Form: Haibun
Modern haiku of 15 syllables
6-3-6
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