Froggy Nerves Of The Neighbor Whose Kids Were Dead And Are Now As Well

Froggy as nerves are
no true surprise in how jumpy
he got with drink in his head
after it happened

and him being not in such
a good place with it,

became a monk of a man
in a hood and a vow
with abbot fringe on it,

no reason
to believe he’d calm himself
after a fire like that one, him
calling out to his children burned,
no longer here except as ghosts,

him not a problem to most though
we none of us liked his wailing over his loss
no matter that we saw how profound it was,
how dark
that hollow, how firmly he moved in
and lived there ever after until
he died

and we saw him
lying on moss behind his hut
not anymore riled and righteous,
now asleep and no longer disturbing us
who long ago felt sad
but trod lightly now outside in case
we stirred those finally sleeping
small brittle kid-spirits
who really should long ago
have been at rest.