Opening Doors

I have my socially acceptable synthetics
And I know the air conditioned dance
Of ideas around the water cooler too.

Consider: Everybody gathers around water,
Even the frogs. And trust me,
They understand change.

When they change, it's not mere
Window dressing: it's entire.
Not like us or like the sky,

Who's constantly shedding appearances,
Becoming one color then the next,
Opening and closing its doors.

And when they're mature,
You can hardly spot the frogs.
They exist more in the bent grass blade--

For us-- than they do in their skin,
They are so subtle.
Yet all day long, their chorus haunts the marsh,

As if the mud itself is singing.
And listen: if you go outside
You can still hear it.