When I reach the pond’s edge the still surface is broken by a frenzy of panicked polliwogs scrambling diving and disappearing. They hide under and in the shadows of lily pads last years leaves rotting brown grey on the bottom in the tangle of roots breaking submerged pots pickerel weed and water plantain. Not one to be seen. I sort of sit crouch on my heels. Wait. Eventually a perfect polliwog shadow drifts between larger shadows cast on the bottom. One then another tail gently waving between folds of sunken foliage. There one floats to the surface returning. Another tail then a head pushes aside the wee leaves of duckweed. I am no threat but I should get back to work.