The sound of cicadas is the only thing
that cuts through the silence. Maybe it
means something. Maybe it doesn’t.
All I know is this is a lonely hour
and i anxiously await the moment
when the rest of the world will rise.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The sound of cicadas is the only thing
that cuts through the silence. Maybe it
means something. Maybe it doesn’t.
All I know is this is a lonely hour
and i anxiously await the moment
when the rest of the world will rise.
I don’t know the sound of cicadas, but I know that moment you capture, the quiet as nothing happens but our silent aloneness