Summer Litany
Written: June 21, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Brian Strand
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Sing, cicada, sing...
a resonant chorus swells—
amidst arching canopies,
through sycamores and silvered shade
crafting the forest’s sacred elegy.
Sing, cicada, sing...
bard of summer’s ageless song
thrums with ardor in amber hues—
your sonorous pulse beats as June stirs.
Sing, cicada, sing . . .
wrap me in blankets of stifling air
where leaden heat bears down the brow—
and midsummer molten cloak dissolves
into the ceaseless cadence of your voice
Sing, cicada, sing...
until the welkin wanes,
until the sighing dusk deepens . . .
until memory rises—as a waxing symphony—
where silence itself morphs into a melody—
Sing, cicada, sing...
so I may recall stillness—
not as ephemeral alabaster
but as summer whispered secret
returning, repeating,
in perpetuum.
Sing, cicada, sing...
Sing, cicada, sleep...
my muse in murmurs,
my solace in shimmering haze,
an aurora-tinged horizon—
a poignant pause at summer’s end
as seasons shift, its song drifts away.
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