Five frogs flattened. The tally of frog roadkill on the streets of my suburban neighborhood. Five frogs crossed the road to get to the other side – and never made it.
Why did the frogs try to cross the road? Biological imperative? A whiff of greener bogs beyond, or like the ubiquitous chicken, just to get to the other side?
I’ll not pretend knowledge of frog lore, perhaps like worms they surface in spring rains. Maybe they didn’t even notice the change in texture, from grass to asphalt, until their fate became etched in it.
I harber a wish that they crossed – not for sweet salvation on the other side – but because of their amphibious nature, their general ability to skirt worlds of land and water. To broker the line between this and that, irrespective of consequence, which in the case of these five frogs, was deadly.
Five frogs flattened. Maybe 50 more made it. Maybe no others tried. Just for the trying, to see what was there.
Shouldn't...but Do 
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