After the rain

Anne Collins
I went to visit the frogs on the hill.
I could hear them celebrating a good distance away.
When I arrived
they were all talking over the top of one another
a cheerful ree ree, baa aa aa, creak creak, bong bong,
tick tick, creg-uk creg-uk.
I closed my eyes and listened
they had so much to say
and with that old Gondwana vibe imprinted on their DNA
so much music to play
the bong bong bouncing off the creg-uk creg-uk
the croak of contra beats riding on the ree ree
pulsing the air with frenetic glee:
a sound-scape worthy of any sophisticated musician.
I took a deep breath
filled my body with these ancient rhythms
leapt and jumped an amphibian choreography. 

There were frog parties in ponds and puddles
all over the reserve. Streams were bubbling up
from beneath the ground. A tree-tang sweetness
filled my nostrils and flushed my face.
Currawongs were calling out to one another 
as they darted across the sky.
A grey shrike thrush was singing its joy . . .
jo-whitt –y . . .

Contextual Essay: Anne understands how nurturing the natural, non-human world is to her sense of well-being. The frogs in this poem live in a reserve up the hill from her house and she goes there often to visit them in their ponds. They always lift her spirits.

Anne Collins lives in nipaluna, lutruwita (Hobart, Tasmania). She writes poetry and creative non-fiction. Her sixth book, a collection of poetry and prose titled Listening to the Deep Song, was published in November 2022 by Bright South press. Further information about Anne and her work can be found on her website at



%d bloggers like this: