Darkness comes to a humid Summer evening.

My wife and I,

lounging on the screened back porch,

listen to the frogs

as a heavy August rain begins to fall.

Ground frogs and anole call

to each other

from behind storm shutter

and beneath magnolia blossoms.

This , their trick

to summon willing partners.

Chirps and squawks and burps

are foreplay for

ambitious amphibians

on this hot night.

Nancy adds a run of burps!

She’s been drinking spicy ginger beer.

I let loose a row of toots

straight from my heart

because I am 72 and old age

is all the body needs to fart.

We blend into the evening chorus.

We do not diminish

any possibility of the heart

for our brothers and sisters in the night

(Or for us, for that matter!)

We add our noises to the growing call.

“Come on, dearest! The time is always right!”

Nothing deters the urge.

Mother knows how!

She’s taught all her children

to push on, now!

Onward and upward to climax!

And we all have learned well.