In early May
 the peepers lie
 in wait and say
 that every guy
 is smaller, lesser
 than themselves;
 their voices
 overheard by elves
 and woodland creatures
 large and small
 who feel compelled
 to answer all
 these protestations
 with their own,
 the birds and bugs
 and planes and stones
 all singing fit
 to raise the bones
 of quiet dead
 and quick alike:
 there is no sleep
 for us tonight.
 Instead, we muse on the cacophanies
 that long-inspired Aristophanes. 

Morning Cacophony
Evening Cacophony
Late Night Cacophony
  (mp3 format)