Ode To the Frog In the Breezeway

"Egin superbe a la robuste echine, par toi Marseille a pu au prix d'un long effort, retirer des flots bleus, la celebre sardine qui depuis cinquante ans bouchat l'entree de port" --caption on a Vieux Port photograph In the seaport city of Marseille there is a tale of a sardine as large as a whale,"plucked from streams of blue," as the French succinctly put it, that blocked the entrance of the Vieux Port for fifty years. Is it for folklore of the fabled fish that a small green frog takes residence in my breezeway? It's not his fault if a need for salt led him to linger beside my doorway. He likes hanging out at the Old Port, grace a' the photograph at my entrance, straddling its frame, or dozing behind a decorated doorplate: a miniature "maison" with Spanish tiles dubbed "Familia Perez," appointing him resident frog, main man of my diminished household, where coming or going, we exchange small pleasantries, (or I do). Civil land-lady to Family "Ranidae's" amphibian animal. Let him stay, I say, because I like his style. Too small to be called king, I crown him a prince: His Highness, Lord of the Breezeway. "Don't kiss any frogs unless they're from Marseille," parting words from a departing friend, so I don't pucker up for this one. Big Frog, Little Frog, it's not the size that counts. He's here to reinvent Pagnol: Panisse and Fanny, a new, improved Marius who left the sailor's life to find a wife-- chose me instead of the sea.