Almost every evening, around 7:30pm, when the sun is in just the right position to shade the street in my tree-lined neighborhood, I walk my Princey-Poo-Poo.
Yesterday evening, the cicadas were louder than I remember during any other walk.
Their music started out mezzo, or moderately soft, but only for second, before rising to a crescendo that was almost deafening (not really).
As I listened, I thought, I'm experiencing a symphony of cicadas.
I love your musical metaphor! Just wondering if you see their shells on the ground. I remember summers where the cicada's would be all over the ground! I like their music but not their shells!
ReplyDeleteDonetta, the rattling "symphony of cicadas" is one of my favorite sounds in the world, ever since I was a child spending summers with my grandparents in the country. It's a song of life and belonging to me, so comforting. I am glad their orchestration spoke to you as well, inspiring this lovely phrase.
ReplyDeleteI love your name for the cacophony of noise and will now refer to them as 'the symphony of cicadas'. :)
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