The cicada calls crest and wash over me.
Their high summer drone is not loud enough
to compete with the din in my head.
They will be hushed soon
when the world holds its breath
between dark and light.
But the sun moves slowly
and the wind is too tired
to move the heavy air around me.
I am grateful for the heat at least
that will keep so many inside
while I keep my vigil.
I am waiting for the stars
hidden by daylight. Logic tells me
they have not disappeared.
I need to remember
what it means to shine,
even when clouds dim the light.
|Artwork by Shelle Kennedy. |
Find more of her art on her blog, her Etsy shop, and Instagram.
Song Choice: Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men
Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Weekend Mini Challenge at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads, Let Evening Come.