Summer passes... on hung laundry by calico_jester
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Description
... and only a shadow is left behind.
They say your songs
portend the end of summer
just as chirping robins
usher in the spring air.
Listen to the sound
whirring, buzzing through
leaves of trees that shelter
the thrumming brood.
Insect monks chant
hymns of nature
for us and for
their silent females: “mate her.”
More musical than electric currents
that hum along power lines,
your symphony hovers,
guarding the sultry night like armored palatines.
Constant and pervasive,
we humans sometimes hear
sometimes ban your frequencies,
lulled to sleep by drums so dear.
Air conditioners and headphones
drown out your beautiful noise
but others sing with you
till Fall’s frost steals these little joys.
http://www.cicadamania.com/cicadas/94/
Comments (1)
RodS
I have their chorus in my backyard right now! I've always loved hearing them - I must be weird! LOL Cool shot of the shed skin.
calico_jester
I see their empty shells on trees, door jams, and other places ... but this is a first find on my hung laundry, and trying to figure how the little devil made it from the ground onto a clothes line and then to my shirt. Also note that I haven't seen any of the winged creatures yet, but the night is alive with sounds . Thx for viewing and your generous comments :)