This poem was published in the June, 1974 edition of Poet: An International Monthly.

Plain text:

One Night, Fishing  

by George Vukelich

One night, fishing from the pier

I felt a living presence near.

Turning to see, turning to hear

I saw the bullfrog on the beach.

His marsh lay on the further shore

away from here by a mile or more.

But this night he sat at my very door,

silent. Watching me, just out of reach.

Above us, man’s new satellite flew by.

I do not know if it caught his eye.

I do not know if he watched the sky

and knew the stars, with a name for each.

Mute we stayed as the night grew cold.

I felt, then, something, something quite old.

Something familiar, yet something untold.

Had he come to study, had he come to teach?

 Appeared in June, 1974 edition of Poet: An International Monthly