While sitting in my living room
I heard a noise that I assumed
To be a crow up on the roof,
On chimney top, perched high, aloof,
Who then, when I went out to see,
Was there no more with such decree.
This happened more than once, and so
I thought it strangely odd to go
On hearing such a foreign sound -
Not really caw-sharp, something round?
I found it hard to put in words
The sounds, more like some small game bird
That rarely lasted very long,
But when it came, it came on strong.
Last night, we heard it once again,
The cat and I; he sprang up then
And bolted to the door to find
This thing that boggled yet my mind.
And so, today, I ladder took
And climbed the roof to take a look;
Removing then the cap all screened,
With mirror and a flashlight seemed
The way the answer I might find,
Thus down the chimney liner shined
My light! But no; 'twas dark I saw,
And nothing that might like to caw!
I scratched my head, put back the cap,
And thought, some mysteries are wrapped
In mystery; I'll never know
Why sounds from here are heard below.
But suddenly I chanced to spy
Under the liner's lip, two eyes,
And there crouched down in silent mode,
Looking at me, I saw a toad!
I kid you not! On chimney peak
A toad and I were cheek to cheek!
I think that I will never know
How that toad got up there to crow,
Or ribbit, as the case must be,
But I am glad the mystery
Of WHO it is, is solved, but WHY?
Why there? What for? And how so high?
Scott L. Barton