Due to detailed circumstances that I don't have time to elaborate on just now, I acquired a fish tank with three goldfish which I brought to my classroom. There were four, but Pete died on the first day of school. A few weeks later I went to buy some more creatures that might cut down on the scum in the tank. I'm not sure they help, but I bought two a-d-o-r-a-b-l-e frogs which we named Victor and Hugo, since we were reading Les Miserables. I love frogs, and I especially love our frogs. They swim around our tank happily, or stick their noses in the rocks. They kick their tiny back legs and then float around with their four limbs sprawled out. They are excessively small and seem fragile (though I admit have survived a few tank-changing catastrophes).
A few days ago I noticed that Hugo was very skinny. The frogs are just a few millimeters thick and about a centimeter wide. Hugo was under a half-centimeter, I'm sure. And when I saw that he couldn't really move around, I was pretty upset. We transfered him to his own little tank with less water so he could reach his food and air. I think it was probably the fresh water that saved him. Today I look at them in their clean tank, and they are swimming happily.
I wrote this poem about my fish a few months ago, and always meant to post it.
webbed footed friends
their back legs
p u s h
and they glide noiselessly