Hunter and the Toad in the Road

Spotty summer showers and a rural road at midnight...

there's bound to be a toad in the road.

Wipers squeak shrilly, momentarily dry.

Stop and emerge for a closer look.

Toads to the left. Toads to the right.

And a toad in the middle of the road.

Dry, warty skin. 

Red speckles, brown splotches, cranial crests and parotid glands.

Warts and more warts.
Warts upon warts, and warts within warts. 

Big, bulging eyes, a quizzical look and a tiny little chin.

Toad?!?

Yep.

Hunter and a toad, right in the middle of the road.

How's the weather down there?

A most impressive toad, firmly ensconced in the middle of the road.

A safer spot, perhaps, than any other, 

here upon the pavement in the midnight hour.

Rather relaxed and regal in its bearing, 

this toad in the middle of the road.

It could be any toad on any road, 

this regal little midnight toad;

Tomorrow, who knows?

But here, and now, it's Hunter's toad. 

The warm, wet asphalt loves a toad.

And the feeling is mutual.