Cicada song

The cicadas started talking
today in Texas.
each year they
start their strange rattling
vibrations, all
at once. Startling and somehow soothing simultaneously,
these insects with
their rusty bowed orchestra
happening at once, It’s a sign
Summer is fully here.
There is a dark rustling distance
in their odd scrapping song-
like dry leaves being crushed
in a green glass jar…
or memory.

or more like a memory which keeps returning.

teenagers like to stare at things.
i like that about that age
they aren’t afraid to look into
the matter, or one another’s
eyes. they haven’t learned
the fear of looking away yet!

My dog often thinks he is a giraffe
and climbs the fence to eat fresh way-up-high leaves
from the next door neighbor’s yard
(always reaching for the stars, that guy)
i try to gently remind him of his name today
until he comes back to earth
and eats his food.
I’m sure God has to do the same
with me often.

a bird, this one, a wren
is a little poem in constant motion
pecking it’s way through life, in search for something…
which never leaves its identity.
i don’t know if squirrel’s sleep, but
i’ve seen them relax.
we are clever enough
to outsmart ourselves
but they all seem to be themselves
better than us.
they know
to continue to grow
is just right.