raining frogs

we were circling the edges of
the fleetwood pond: grey skey &
ducks feathers spat out on the rocks.
the water was murky & november-brown.
i said that in mrs. bowman's
third grade class we learned that it once
rained frogs & toads on a small town
in Indiana. it was in the 
1920s or something when everyone 
still read newspapers & i imagined you 
as a little boy standing in your backyard 
with a bullfrog in your hands.
you tell me that bullfrogs eat
birds & i'm thinking of bullfrogs
the size of dogs with duck feathers 
jutting from their mouths. it's thundering
today & i imagine each snap as the 
call of a different animal ready 
to fall from the clouds-- i see god
seated in a folding chair, conducting 
a mass fish or blackbirds to all jump down
at once. the storm warnings cry flood &
power lines whipped like strands of 
my old long brown hair-- sparks flying--
the the blackbirds slicing them with 
their beaks-- i stay in my volvo because
the tires of cars are supposed to keep
you safe from lightning-- for some
reason we learned how to escape a car
even if it's struck by lightning but 
i forget how to-- did you know that 
it'd rained spiders in Argentina 
& Australia? the fish make sense--
they've always wanted to fly--
they all, at one time or another, peer
out of the water to stare at a passing
airliner-- craving sky & air--
spider on the other hand are so enamored
of the earth that they invented new legs
to hold onto it with. i'd shut the blinds
if it were raining spiders-- i'd call
you and tell you to come pick me up &
take me to park again. i want to sit
under water while it storms this time--
see the rain smacking the pond from beneath
the surface-- what would that sound like?
you told me that frogs only rained because 
of a tornado but i liked the idea better
when it had no explanation. i like
science better without explanations. 
god telling us to jump, telling us
that this time it's going to rain humans--
i don't think twice about what it will
feel like to be raining but i do hesitate
before i jump-- i want you to be there
to fall with me. in the plummet. 
i picture you still meandering along
the rocks-- will you try to catch me, dad,
even as a raindrop?