That day a dark, vermillion, winter sky, like a Turner water-colour, was seen reflected in an old pond where, nearby, the poet Basho watched a small, unclean and speckled frog jump in the evening air and meet the water with a gentle plop, an almost soundless splash, a plash near where the other sounds of twilight seemed to stop as Basho, without writing, memorised that gentle movement and, with a wry smile, acknowledged to himself he had devised a way to turn a frog into a style. Poet's note: So: this is my version of Basho’s frog. Go: post your comments on my briefpoems blog. Conor Kelly was born in Dublin and spent his adult life teaching in a school in the Dublin suburbs. He now lives in a rural area of West Clare in Ireland from where he manages his twitter site, @poemtoday, dedicated to the short poem. He has had poems printed in Irish, British, American and Mexican magazines. He was shortlisted for a Hennessy New Irish Writers award.