Frogs legs wanted
An idealistic and increasingly desperate little green frog croaks a melancholic tune, “It’s not easy being green…” to the background sounds of a politician attempting to summon support for unpopular policy. The lyrics cut deep. His silken legs, long and lean, know easy means nothing when the pond is sticky and dry. If he had tadpoles he would worry for their future. But right now, like his political friend, he is worried for his own immediate fate.
“Farewell my beautiful lily pad of yesterday, may we meet again,” and with that the little frog leapt onto the road of unknowns leaving his cherished home on the horizon. And with one padded foot in front of the other he proclaims with enthusiasm, “To a greener tomorrow.”
Although he is seeking public assurances rather than displaying unflinching conviction, our campaigner of public votes walks alongside the little frog and together they follow the footprints left by industry and greed towards the booth of change.
“Momentum my friend. The heating winds carry with them a sense of change at last.” He offers comforting rhetoric the way only a politician can.
As they approach their chance to cast their vote they see ‘Frogs legs wanted’ splashed across a placard outside.
“How exciting. Do you think it’s an invitation to join the charge?” The little frog asks.
“Or do they want to eat you alive?” The man knows what those, like him, dressed with a neatly knotted tie and smooth slacks, are capable of.
Queues of democracy bend around the corner out of site behind them. The moment has come. The nation has come. They enter the booth that could take them all to a flourishing pond.
“If only it were easy being green…”
Illustration by Hendrika Stekhoven-Smith
