Today I’m hearing (or perhaps only noticing) the cicadas for the first time this year. The buzzing outside my window and on every shaded street corner is as sure a sign of summer as the temps and humidity. In fact, I hardly think it’s summer at all until I hear the wretched creatures. We get them every year, and until they die out in the fall, their rasping song is as inescapable as a guilty conscience.
They sound like a heat wave and sweat-damp skin.
They sound like summer.
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8 comments:
I miss cicadas. We don't get them here.
"...as inescapable as a guilty conscience."
I love that! I absolutely love that!
I like that, "they sound like a heat wave and sweat-damp skin." Great description! :)
Your words are perfectly descriptive of those huge insects. They seem to yell out, "Let summer begin!"
=:8
Nice post!
So evocative in so few words.
I thought cicadas only come out every 17 years? They look huge on TV. I bet it would really suck to fall asleep in the yard and wake up with some crawling on your face.
We have peepers, a small frog that lives (in profusion) in the many swamps of Northern Maine. They are so loud you can't hear yourself think. But when they start chorusing in the evening, you know that Spring is here!
Wow, I'm so sad. I just realized we don't have them here at the new house. With all the construction, it might take some time before they come back.
I love that sound. Reminds me of when I was young :)
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