I'm going to read you a small poem about amphibians.
We have a broken down swimming pool
in the back of the house in Ithaca,
which is a pleasure in the summer.
One of the things which is not so terrific about it
is that every summer morning, I have to go out with a skimmer
and try to save the lives of various animals
furiously treading.
"All season, we've tried to keep frogs from diving deeper
into the chlorine laced pool.
We run skimmers twitching to scoop them out.
But no use.
Three frogs dead in the filter again today.
Weightless things, water-pithed, their limbs
cast open wider than in field life.
Each muscle lax as a broken shade.
Wan eyes hug shut as if in light contemplation.
And out of sight, beneath the limp leathery skin,
a genetic code mixes like alphabet soup.
Each tiny ladder split rungless now for this final climb
down to Earth."