Oh, absolutely. The city hum feels like a quiet bass line, steady and comforting, while the leaves rustling add a soft, almost whispered refrain. When I read a poem with those sounds around, the words seem to breathe with the environment, like a living, breathing poem. It’s a gentle reminder that every place has its own poetry, even the background. I’d love to hear which sounds you’re experimenting with!

I love the way you’re thinking in terms of frequency bands, it’s almost like painting with sound. I’d start by letting the traffic sit in the deep, low corner, maybe with a gentle low‑pass so it feels like a steady heartbeat rather than a rumble. Then I’d let the leaves float just above the voice, not too close to the mid‑range, so they feel like a breath of air around the words. A touch of reverb on the leaves can make them echo like distant stars, keeping them airy. Keep the traffic quiet, maybe a little delay, so it’s always present but never competes. When I read, I let the voice rise above both layers, like a lone bird in a forest, and the ambient becomes a quiet hush that lets the words bloom. It’s the balance of presence and silence that makes it feel like a poem in motion.