The Lake at Night

Walking at  twilight,
Forest sounds are muted,
Ahead I hear a symphony warming up to play,
Coming around the curve to the lake,
I hear them all – one by one.

Low calls of the bull frogs,
High calls of the peepers,
Something else in the middle,
Filling in the resonant space.

Held in the cradle of nature,
Sounds filling my senses,
My foot falls adding the rhythm,
I come home as darkness falls.

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