When Only Frogs Remain

Past midnight, the same place holds a different balance.
The birds have withdrawn and no water gathers in the pond. 
What remains is a continuous field of sound—
Schlegel’s tree frogs, calling without pause.
Their voices fill the darkness with a steady intensity, 
less a chorus than a surface, unbroken and close.

Occasionally, some thing moves in the grass —
 a brief disturbance, a presence passing through—
but it does not overtake the night.
There is little to mark time here. 
No gradual shift, no clear transition. 
Only persistence.

Recorded with higher-order ambisonics,
this piece leans toward immersion—
not to follow events, 
but to be held within a single, sustained state.

When only frogs remain,
the night no longer unfolds.
It simply continues.