I have written about my love of the sound of cicadas in my other blog Love Beauty Peace (Cicada Summers). I am compelled to bring them up again given the perfect August weather we are having. I love standing outside and closing my eyes to listen attentively to the magical sounds that surround me. There is nothing that says summer to me as much as the drone of cicadas. The humming quality absolutely mellows me out—perfect for a lazy summer day.
The Youngest Two Hear Cicadas
By Farnoosh Fathi
Tennessee: We are here, between trees,
with the tempo of a rosary being strung
in a queue of escalating beads—
Carolina: It’s not quite the count in
the countinghouse of my chest
but the heart does make an awful attempt
t: and a circle wherever it may be
there was music coming on
c: which though machinery-like
moves not in cogs, and never
springs, but waves through
t: like wired applause for antic backstage
buds on the pre-comeuppance buzz; but it
fades
c: but only after the chorus has pulsed
t: it drops off with sudden decision, like fountain
water gone dross
c: or it reaches the furthest point
the branch turns from us, and is for some arc
fully quiet…
t: until the roulette snaps its jaw and the choir’s
circuit opens to one
c: like a pigeon unhinged, its wings
in sudden white-rumped ascent
t: unopposed by iridescence
c: unopposed by iridescence
XOXO Rachel
Wondrance 