There is a frog who lives near water,
who sighs too much for what she's worth,
who crosses every map to find you
and brings you kawe back to earth.

She does not know the size of what she carries 
the milkshake offered, the hug, the quiet croak 
but those who've felt the cold of isolation
know warmth best given without being spoke.

She wants to accomplish everything at once
and cannot see she's doing it already:
just showing up, just being there, just asking
are you well? with voice low and steady.

At the pond in Darkenwood she rests,
where water holds the weight of what she's felt.
A great frog. Not in size but everything else
that makes a stranger glad they've met.

When the wanderer swore his oath to shadows,
she stood beside him, small and sure and green.
The best Ruddra, she said. The only one.
And meant it like it always should have been.

Be well, friend. There will be poetry when you wake.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Miraman, in the year 1001 AF.