The song is constant. A drone in my ears on the back porch and the click of the lighter briefly keeping time.
The summer solstice is the high holiday for the shriek and roar of life and the cicadas will not let me forget it. I found one of their golden shells today clinging to a wall. It was empty but it reminded me of a life being lived a little bigger elsewhere.
The song and thrum are constant. Life is constant. This year, I am praying to god to let me succumb to it.
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