I'm quoting The Dude in the title today, just so you know where we all stand. I've dug into the grab bag again and hark back to the morning of July 17, at a point where I only had one dirt magnet! It seems quite a while ago really. I am going to cheat today and again post someone else's poem, to give an idea of where my tastes lie at the moment. So here is a very lovely poem that Henry seems to enjoy quite a bit. Small Frogs Killed On The Highway James Wright Still, I would leap too Into the light, If I had the chance. It is everything, the wet green stalk of the field On the other side of the road. They crouch there, too, faltering in terror And take strange wing. Many Of the dead never moved, but many Of the dead are alive forever in the split second Auto headlights more sudden Than their drivers know. The drivers burrow backward into dank pools Where nothing begets Nothing. Across the road, tadpoles are dancing On the quarter thumbnail Of the moon. They can'