I heard the sound of frogs croaking from mid-air.

It turns out that the concept of "mid-sky" height depends on each person's perspective. My grandmother said the top of a bamboo tree was mid-sky, but I'm sitting on the balcony of the 17th floor, about 50 meters above the ground, so it's no longer mid-sky. It must be way up in the sky! The accuracy of folk sayings in many ways doesn't need to be the same as that of professionals, but it does have accuracy in its expression.

The autumn air was silvery, filling the space. The rain was cool. Sitting on the balcony, looking out, I could only see the red lights along the embankment; the river was nowhere in sight. It stretched endlessly, unrecognizable. The sounds of frogs croaking and insects chirping in the cool, damp night were quite evocative. It had been a long time since I'd heard frogs croak. With no cars around, the sounds were very clear. Were they calling for mates, or eagerly anticipating the cool raindrops after the hot days? Imagine one frog opening its mouth to catch the rain and croaking, and a few seconds later another would respond. "I hear the sound of frogs in my ears," but I wasn't startled by any calls for a boat. I deliberately waited to hear the warm, joyful sounds of mating; why would I be startled? I heard they were going to build some kind of complex on this vacant land. Let those frogs and insects croak for as long as they can; soon this place will become a city, and there won't be any room for them anymore.

I vaguely remember a time in Soc Son. It rained like a flood. The pond in front of my house overflowed in an instant. When the rain stopped, I opened the door and stepped out into the yard, hearing a chorus of frogs, toads, and insects all around the house. They'd all been hiding during the day. But after the rain, they came out as if this night, this land, were their own private territory.

I remember in 1965 I dug two trenches in the tea garden. It was a common practice, so I had to do it, but nobody else jumped into them when American planes were flying very low over Hai Duong and Hanoi . In 1969, I even built a makeshift shelter, which took a lot of effort. After a few rainstorms, when I was picking tea, I saw the trenches were half-full of muddy water. I told my mother, and she knew that several frogs had fallen into each trench at some point. I caught five, including two large ones. My mother said the two large ones were female and the three smaller ones were male. She advised me to release them because we don't eat frog meat. I regretted it, but my mother said, "Release them. March is frog breeding season. We could sell them for a few cents, but what's the point of selling them?" To add, my mother doesn't eat catfish, eels, frogs, snakehead fish, or beef, so my brother and I don't eat them either. Growing up, I found it quite troublesome living in a communal environment for decades.

From midday, I hear the croaking of frogs. It brings back memories of days gone by. Looking down at the road, I see no cars still moving. It's past midnight. Everything seems fast asleep. Only the croaking of frogs joins the chorus of insects. A raindrop hits my face. The moon is spreading. The full moon of the seventh lunar month has just passed. If I were still alive, seeing me sitting here daydreaming, my mother would probably say, "Go to sleep, staying up late is bad for you." But today is different. Frogs and toads, keep croaking to your heart's content. Autumn has arrived.

Source: https://daidoanket.vn/nghe-tieng-ech-keu-tu-lung-chung-gioi-10289280.html