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  /  art-and-culture   /  Nostalgia For Cicadas

Nostalgia For Cicadas

Outside beyond the stretch of window’s light,

This night has sutured leaves on limbs of trees

Where darkness claims the woods for its domain.

There fireflies strive to navigate that maze

So silent while cicadas wait their turn

To form their chorus round our house again.

At nearly eighty now, I may not hear

Them sing to me again as they first did,

But I sit here and climb that hill once more

Where I first saw their husks on oaken bark

Devoid of songs they sang all summer long.

Now silence here without one whippoorwill

Reminds me soon I’ll rest upon that hill.

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