March 9th, 2007



All day today was gray. Now I listen to the lidded night while watching the dim, shifting variegations of the clouds. The constant sound is the frog chorus and, farther off, a faint hum of evening traffic which will soon turn intermittent. Nearby, the passing cars are already few, and I can hear their individual passage and the way their sound fades to be absorbed by that background hum. Most are headed down the hill, locals off for a night on the town. I see flashes from the headlights zip among the trees and vanish.

Everyone and everything is going away but me and the frogs, I think. We'll be here to hear the (other-than-frog) silence fall, and I'll sniff the damp night air for lingering scents of winter and early scents of spring. There might be a visit from an owl or a raccoon, and maybe even deer, and later on the cars will drift back by, one by one. A few dogs will surely bark, but the frogs and I will have most of the night to ourselves. It's just as well. The sound of my footsteps on the walk has put me in the mood to be alone and to have my brain unsullied by further words, even my own. Time for the lights to go out. My thoughts have been kissed by frogs and become princely.