Listen—and watch:
<BR-R-R-RT!! (br-r-r-rt.) BR-R-R-RT! (br-r-r-rt.) BR-R-R-RT! (br-r-r-rt.)>
A cacophony of procreative insistence.
(No point in creating resistance.)
Bullfrog’s strong and comely daughter
Lays her eggs in the water.
(Thank you, Ira Gershwin.)
Suitor’s milt soon to descend upon those eggs,
Lying among the dregs
On the bottom—Got ‘em!
Tadpoles will then soon emerge
To morph into new generations.
Said new frogs will then surge
Upon the shore’s penetrations.
All over again.
New fireflies, floating in the dark,
Blinking urgently;
Emergent. See?
Seeking mates, full of hope,
But some must bear a big fat “Nope.”
NATURE’S choices—randomly.
Wins and losses—and, you’ll see
How probably it works for each of us,
Regardless of a prayerful fuss.
Sadly, we embrace likely truths
That our legacies depend upon the tooths
We sink into rivals’ flesh,
While we seek mates with whom to mesh.
So it must be.
