Summer Cicadas

Athens, Georgia

July 4, 2010

When morning chill subsides

       soft air will vibrate

              to waves of cicada

       in rhythmic insistence

suffusing summer woodland

      with the languid ebb and flow

              that floats the soul

       outside of time

Where a cabin still lies

       beneath evening’s shadow

              and four children drift

       on currents of love

through open screen wonder

       as adult voices fade

              into swells of cicada

       from a forest departed

and a family dispersed.

       But listening closely

              in the intervals of silence

       from across the gulf

the voices persist

       in quiet conversation

              yet present, still

       to a child long grown.

From that far gloaming

       I have heard my own voice

              but faint and indistinct

       emerging to tenuous life.

Perhaps you will have, too

       before it is lost forever

              in time and tide

       of summer cicada.