Monday, September 2, 2024 Sharp

As I write this, I hear the cicadas tuning their instruments. It’s a one-note symphony from their section of the orchestra, the irrefutable signal that summer is coming to an end. It’s sharp, emanating invisibly from the trees, cutting across all the other sounds of the day. People that study these things say that the male cicada is trying to attract females. This may be true, but the we know the real words to their song:

I tell of the air turning cooler at night
I tell of the swans beginning their flight
I tell of the leaves soon changing and falling
I tell of the winter nights soon to come calling…

They cannot help what they sing and we cannot help knowing what is to come when they sing it: the sharp hues of autumn, the beauty of burning gold.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Deleting will come in the morning.

P.S. If the photo(s) on my posts look distorted, it has to do with a setting on your phone. It’s easiest just to view the post on my blog, rather than reading the email that delivered it to you. There is a way for you to navigate to my blog from the email and I’m confident you’ll find it.

4 thoughts on “Monday, September 2, 2024 Sharp

  1. You know, I never considered cicadas as a subject for poetry – or even much contemplation. Yet, after reading your lovely poem I paid attention and listened a bit more closely last night to my backyard chorus. Once again, Lynnie, you expressed it perfectly – the cicadas are, indeed, singing a song of Autumn. I told them to cool it because Summer ain’t over yet..!😇

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  2. I’ve seen a couple cicadas in our yard this week. One had just crawled out of its skin. Interesting creatures….not to mention loud! Thank you for the lovely cicada lyrics. It definitely is the sound of Fall. You captured the “picture of the season”.

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