A hundred thousand million galaxies in motley clusters rapidly receding from one another—like a bunch of bees repelled by tainted nectar they’d been eating— is a sure sign the cosmos is inflating, as is the vocal structure of the frog now calling out across the water, waiting, as patient as the shadows in this bog. With every croak, his throat must grow then shrink. But will that happen to the universe? Well, you can speculate and muse and think and theorize and wonder and immerse your thoughts in such abstract considerations while I sit listening to frog vibrations.