Cicadas

It's Tuesday afternoon. I've been back in this apartment for 48 hours now. I've probably slept through 40 hours of it. Bags are unpacked and books are stacked. I'm going to put on a tinge of makeup, put on a pretty summer dress and take a day for myself.
The cicadas have been singing nonstop. It's hard to describe the cacophony that is their mating cries.
It's best described as a shrill rattling that pauses and starts up intermittently. This has been my summer of love. And the sounds of it have not quieted just yet.