Shoes

Two pairs of shoes,

worn but not too bad,

were lined up side by side

on the curb

at the bus shelter.

Empty, as if the wearers

were snatched straight up

by aliens or angels.

Perhaps an offering by some

anonymous samaritan.

The rain that night

looked like a shower of glass

under the streetlight

and a solitary toad

far from any pond

croaked in the weedy grass

between the navy family housing.

No one took the shoes
and in the morning

they were filled
with matching pools.