Relaxed, a glass of wine in hand,
My ears take in my favorite band.
I close my eyes to drape my cares.
The sound of tree frogs fills the air.
To some, a loud cacophony;
To me, a nighttime melody.
Their mating calls pass through the trees
In desperate need and gentle breeze.
What if I ventured down the path?
What would be the aftermath?
Would it add to their intensity?
Or would deadened silence welcome me?
Perhaps I'd make a bed of leaves;
Intrude without apology.
My glass is drained, I turn the key.
Their muted callings follow me.
I lie in bed, my door closed tight.
I pray they visit every night.
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