Sounds of Summer

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.