Step outside on a September afternoon and you’ll hear the sounds of a million voices singing about life. The music starts gently; a burring that tickles the ears. Then low and guttural, like a groan from deep inside.

It comes from everywhere; the trees, the grass, the fence posts and the weedy ditches. Spin around and you will hear it at every turn. Rhythmic crackles jitter along the balmy, thick air. Which is the original sound and which is the echo?

Your ears take in the song of the cicadas and the vibration thrums through your body like the rings made from a rock skipping over water. The notes they choose for their chorus are a see-saw of complementary tones that are both urgent and lazy.

Close your eyes and experience the progression. The music begins softly, a gnawing whisper that tells an important truth. It builds and grows, scratch upon scratch, until your ears feel as if the only sound in the world is right here. Right now. In this summer evening, surrounded by cicada voices, all eager to be heard before they disappear into the coming season.

Their calls are sensuous. Solitary, yet reaching for a connection with life. A growing plea that rises like a wave along calm, muggy air. Louder and louder.

You hear it all, wanting to cover your ears yet entranced by how the cicada’s cacophony fills your soul with movement and flow.

It undulates and groans toward a peak of thunderous screaming…

Then, like the aftermath of life’s best moment, the music begins to fall away. Slowly, shimmery, solemnly. The rhythm remains intact; a buzzing that is as familiar as a deep breath and its exhalation. But the volume and tempo dim. Sated.

The message has been sent. The moment has passed. The song fades into the weeds and trees and grasses of summertime, leaving behind a quiet made more beautiful by its sheer depth.

Listen to the cicadas. Their sounds will fill your soul with the pattern of nature’s unending cycles. In arcs of soft whispers and fierce calling, they sing their needs and share the summer air we are blessed to breathe.

You can contact Robin at robinwrites@yahoo.com