verse: Cicadas

(After reading my Autumn poem, novelist @KMWeiland wondered if I could do a summer poem. I asked what to include, and she gave me a list of ingredients. Though some of are not local, I did my best to incorporate them all. Except meadowlarks. I never said I was a good chef.)

walking home
this evening

everything feels
impossibly close

it's like that line
from that old movie

this the anvil
of heaven

the cottonwood
aglow like fireworks

and even the sun
is moving slow

inching to the horizon so
it doesn't break a sweat

and lingering there
as the clouds roll in

waiting for
the cicadas

and the celebration
yet to begin

intoxicated
by the warm air

their muscles
contract, relax

in a symphony of castanets
and fingerclicks

and the thunderheads
respond in kind

tears of joy
pool around my sandals

and my toes
quench their thirst

grateful for
this small blessing

the dog days
are upon us.