I want to listen to cicadas every night

I want to listen to cicadas every night.

I want to listen to cicadas every night and eat watermelon in my bare feet, on the back porch. The cicadas’ wail marks the beginning of summer.

 

And when summer is over, I want to hop from leaf to fallen leaf.

I want to crunch out a path with my hands dug into my fleece pockets and my nostrils reddening in the crisp air. Changes in color signal the start of autumn.

 

And when fall is over, I want to see my breath.

I want to blow smoke rings of water vapor in the chill air with my nose hairs prickling and freezing. Breath made visible indicates the beginning of winter.

 

And when winter is over, I want to touch the smooth skin of flower buds.

I want to feel the wax on the backs of newly unfurled petals and sink my knees into the damp earth. Knees pock-marked with bits of dirt mark the beginning of spring.

 

And when spring is over, I want to listen to cicadas every night.

I want to listen to cicadas every night and eat watermelon in my bare feet, on the back porch.

 

Advertisements

Talk about it

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s