The rain hammers on the whistlepigs outside like an organic xylophone they fiddle with bits of grass in the dark
It's night and the chorus frogs back it all up, the humming of the refridgerator the whistlepigs the water in the pipes, the rain.
I've been in this cabin in the woods **** near a month already and the incessant buzz of electricity trying hopelessly to ground through the faulty wiring in ten million appliances still cannot be escaped.
Better to be a whistlepig living beneath the floorboards in the damp than a mouse in the walls-