The deep rumble of a rapidly approaching thunderstorm gets louder every moment. The kids scramble off to safety; they yell that the game will be continued as soon as the storm passes. Much to the girls' dismay, they have to seek first.
Crickets begin their melody at dusk. Frogs join in soon after in their distinct, throaty, baritone croak. The last to join in are the cicadas. The trio of voices is now complete. They harmonize perfectly all night.
The stars are so brilliant in the sky. The way they shine and contrast so greatly against the dark atmosphere almost completely captivates your thoughts, but the popping and crackling of the campfire reminds you of its presence- refusing to be forgotten.
Chipper songbirds wake you from your peaceful slumber. Their early morning chit-chat and chirping is much more pleasant than any alarm.
Bikers race by; they ring their bells in greeting. The greeting is not only for you, but for the much anticipated days of freedom and fun as well.
Hissing of sprinklers in your neighbor's yard draws you near; instant refreshment being promised. You long to run through them, but you know you can't. Thankfully, the breeze carries the cool mist in your direction.
Children at the park fill the air with their tinkling, feather-light laughter. The swings they play on squeak obnoxiously as the kids jump off to retrieve a snack from the ice cream truck; their only care in the world being if the man had their favorite kind.
Pool pumps and air conditioning units drone on making an endless background hum, assuring an escape from the intense heat of the day.
Walking by the baseball field, you notice the crowd cheering and showing support for the home team. Less than a minute later they begin to sing the age-old song, "Take Me Out to the Ball Game." It is terribly off-key and silly-sounding, but you soon realize that is what makes it is so perfect.
The twins next door throw a sleep over. Several girls are invited, and all of them attend. Like the girls they are, they talk in their airy, feminine voices about everything under the sun until dawn. After they fall asleep, you can hear soft snores. They are nothing like the beastly noises coming from the boys a few doors down.
Cars drive by with the tops and windows down; music blares from the speakers. Police hear it, but don't bother stopping them to issue tickets for noise violations- simply because they wish to do the same thing. The only sound coming from their car is the static from the radios they are required to communicate with.
Waves created by teenage, dare-devilish boys swinging in to the pond from a rope crash onto the shore, making it seem more like an ocean than a tiny pond behind a friend's house. Girls watch the boys dreamily from the dock... until they are pulled into the water as well. Screeching and a few choice words among low chuckles are heard for several minutes after that.
Boisterous cracking and booming of fireworks replicate the feeling in a girl's chest after she receives her first kiss. The only sound she makes is a faint gasp, out of surprise the boy supposes. After she recovers from her shock, she murmurs goodbye to the boy she has admired for months and rushes home. He just watches her dainty, beautiful, retreating figure and replays that almost inaudible intake of breath in his mind. He hears nothing else- not even the ear-piercing noises from the sky. He decides it is the sweetest sound in the world.
Soon enough, you no longer hear the slapping of sandals on wet pavement; the hum of the pool pumps die down; mothers don't yell for their children to return home for dinner because the children no longer play until dark; frogs and cicadas fall silent, leaving the crickets to sing solo; the crowds at the ball field disperse- the only evidence of their former presence are the wrappers and tickets that seem to be lost in the empty bleachers; fun at the park is just a distant memory now; massive waves in the pond are merely gentle ripples, and the rope only swings with the wind; instead of rustling in the wind, leaves just fall to the ground; one last sleep over is held... and just as the incessant teasing, giggling, and secret-telling fades into silence... so does the song of summer.