When we got home after the typhoon passed, the frogs were really going at it. Must be because of all the heavy rain.

No talking tonight, just a silent sitting … except for their croaking and the last of the wind. Hard to miss that.

Though sitting accompanied by the sound, we don’t listen to it, or think about or focus on it … It is just there. So an old Zen haikuist (Yosa Buson) once wrote:

Listening to the moon,

gazing at the croaking of frogs

in a field of ripe rice.