'But she has three neat fingers on each foot / And she is looking at me.' Photo: by Laura Seaman on Unsplash
There is a toad in my garage
Poem by Susan Nuttgens
There is a toad in my garage
All the small birds have gone away
Or maybe the local cats got them
Or the magpies.
The toad is like a clod of earth
So dark and lumpy I can’t see her eyes
But she has three neat fingers on each foot
And she is looking at me.
My garage is rotting and rather damp
It’s next on my list for demolition
Or was.