Listening to the sounds of frogs on my porch is a soothing effect of many levels. It's not so much the noise, but the silence. The longing of nature calling out so innocently in the night. The dripping of the rain. The wind howling like a lost child. The moderation of coffee and the intake of alcohol. We lay on the chairs of life that embrace our bodies to the sun. And we listen. We listen to nature like an owl in the woods on a hot summer night. His head turning in all directions to hear the faintest of memories. A crunch of the grass. Pine needles falling from the sound of the wind. Within all of us is nature. A longing to be in this world of unknown. Our eyes focus on objects that are in the distance. We smell the hush of dew in the early mornings. We breathe in. We hesitate to the night. We breathe out. And we drop our minds in the same instance. We try not to look back at the wrong and the right. We linger in the fallen leaves and put one foot in front of the other. We explore. We hug and embrace the passion within. And our heads turn again. We try not to move our hands, but the cobwebs are too deep. We rollover. We sleep. We cannot complete this absurd manifestation of why. We only know that joy is near. And so the night continues...
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