OPINION: How to Quiet a War in Northern Wisconsin

As Independence Day approaches, the arrival of dusk and eventual dark in the part of Wisconsin’s Northwoods which I most frequently visit augurs an aural assault of seemingly endless booms and blasts from fireworks, often past 11 pm.
But not this night.
A steady rain has come along, toting with it with some natural fireworks of thunder and lightning from a passing thunderstorm. It has driven the nightly pyros inside and left the entertainment to other forces more adept at creating real wonder.
The storm has passed. All is quiet now on the Northern Front. Everyone else is asleep. The only sounds of war I hear are little bombs of rainwater falling from rustling leaves, the male bullfrogs using their deep throated calls to build ramparts against other suitors, the occasional crack of a large moth crash landing like a stricken fighter jet against a window lit from the inside and the distant wail of loons resounding and echoing as if they are the self-appointed air raid sirens of the northern lakes.
I like this better.