I’ve seen them dart among the cattails
at the slightest shadow
like commas scattering over the surface
of a page. And I have sadly sent
a few of them to their deaths
last summer, when I ran
through the forest and found
myself in the middle
of a swarm: hundreds of tiny, spring-
activated hoppers
crossing the path between pond
and stream in absolute
silence. But tonight
they’re fully-grown and loud,
filled with a joie de vivre
I had forgotten existed. I hear
basses and baritones,
tenors, countertenors, and there,
half-hidden behind
a clump of pennywort, the purest
falsetto. They sing a capella
like nobody’s listening,
and yes, I’m listening,
I’m hearing their magnum opus
with my whole
body, each cell attuned
to their crescendos, vibratos and
diminuendos, their raucous
claim to be here, alive
and very much present. Tonight,
the pond thrums
with exuberant croaking
and I’ve got the front seat.
Originally from Chisinau, Moldova, Romana Iorga is the author of Temporary Skin (Glass Lyre Press, 2024), a woman made entirely of air (dancing girl press, 2025), Auz simplu (Semne Press, 2000), and Poemul sosirii (Glasul Press, 1996). Her work has appeared in The Nation, RHINO, New England Review, and elsewhere. Romana’s new poetry collection, Witness Protection, won the Fall 2025 Black River Chapbook Competition and is coming out with Black Lawrence Press in 2027.