night poem, august 11, 2015


The chorus of cicadas

Ten thousand strong

Escalates and accelerates

Then slows and fades

Like the day itself

Like summer itself.


In weeks this noise

Which now seems almost a part of the Earth

Will vanish and the sky be white with silence

And only the whisper of the wings of the late migrations

To make us cry.


The distant train enters the tunnel with whining horn

Its tone dropping from silver major to grey minor as it races inside the mountain

Rickety-rack, rickety-rack, rickety-rack.

Copyright 2015

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2 Responses to night poem, august 11, 2015

  1. I’m listening to cicadas right now andyou definitely captured the spirit of that. Lovely.

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