The chickadee sings over sunflower seed. The cicada flexes its “tymbal” for the sake of its descendant. The dove calls for its lifelong mate. The hummingbird buzzes and wars to be dominant. The wasp is swooshing down to carve pulp for its massive place. The dragonfly hovers to consume mosquitos in mass. The cricket strikes its musical legs — sawing forth in resonance.
The sounds of summer are prone to stir. Its lazy days take us back into time. The hazy days of childhood summers come to mind. Time to daydream about late seasons of life when the summer sounds tend to time-travel us back — thoughts flowing like sound waves — pushing air onto air across tall oceans of grass that bend back and forth greeting us or bidding us goodby.
The cicada nymph hides for seventeen years — burrowing through its grave as if buried alive. It emerges through its metamorphosis with just six months to live; and I delve through summer days — plenty — into my resurrection on to infinity.
By Stephen Williams, August 13, 2022 © all rights reserved
1 Peter 1:23–25 (NASB): “…for you have been born again not of seed which is perishable, but imperishable, that is, through the living and enduring word of God. For, “All flesh is like grass, And all its glory is like the flower of grass. The grass withers, And the flower falls off, But the word of the Lord endures forever.” And this is the word which was preached to you.”