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Whatever Happened to the Horny Toad?
...A Poem
Horny toads were everywhere, throwbacks to a primal age, dinosaurs with heads of spikes, skin of knobs and scales. Poke them with finger or a stick and they might move a step or two, then stop again in widespread stance to contemplate the world through steady yellow eyes... Whatever happened to the horny toad? Why aren't they found numberless in washes brush and cactus clothed where rabbits squat and nose and quail in mindless coveys jerk this way and that? Quail and rabbit co-exist with man, search and pick at seeming endless stalk and seed. Even javelina the old man feeds are misguided pets that nose screen doors for hand-outs... Why not the stoic horny toad? Was there something in this toad that could not stomach modern man, would not abide vile decadence? Not poisoned by our catastrophic mind, nor fallen on some hi-tech sword, ethics, honor, moral stance It could not bear our degraded ways? Did the horny toad just leave, say adios, declare its independence, disgust, move on to higher, better spheres more conducive to its quest...? What is the measure of toad or man that fouls its nest in vile repute? Where does the primal honor lie... with man who prides himself on filth or toad that understands and moves away? Copyright by Don Gray
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