cicadas

the rising and falling tone
drills relentlessly into my ears
the ringing sound
unearthly and alien
cicadas scream their
annual presence.

a sound that could be
the very hissing radiance
of the sun's own breath
rolling upward in
nuclear waves from
yellow grass baking
my eyes and face.

days ago they left
empty husks hanging
from gray fence posts or
clinging to dry barn walls
looking like delicate little
monsters becoming
a moment's worth of
amusing playthings for
a passing child yet
they crumble easily
in his indelicate grasp
crackling into dust
between small fingers
and the game ends.

we retreat into the house
enveloped once again
in cool electrified
filtered air just when
spongebob cackles at
mr. krabs and suddenly
ryan is engrossed
in their cartoon drama.

outside I hear them still
voices of texas summer incarnate
louder than the tv
calling to something inside me
with their hypnotic rhythm
evoking memory of summers past
something almost forgotten
something I left in the trees
and back outside I go.