Louder Than The Cicadas

 I hear the voices. Jabbering louder than the Cicadas do, a thousand little men shaking baby rattles. So much messaging, so many messengers. I’m more aware of them in my life. Stories as pervasive as the cicada in summer.

I hope and wait for the caffeine to flush the sludge of melatonin out from my veins and my brain. I read a couple chapters to remind myself who God is; and try to remember who I am. My coffee mug and I move to my desktop turning on the computer. Sit down to scan today’s news feed; chaos, murder, memes, Hitler, Trump.

 Other voices unbidden whisper negative comparisons; not good enough, not productive enough, not gifted enough. Critical of self, critical of others. It’s an effort to not put others down sometimes. Put ourselves down. Hard to let joy bubble up. Be okay with the losses. They must be a normal thing; cause that’s what every singer sings.

The blanket of summer heat presses down and the Cicadas screech. In the right frame of mind they settle into the background; a symphony of white noise. A strong wind, a passing semi, jars them into a discordant chattering.

There’s a place I go where water cascades over grey sandstone, dripping and bubbling in summer, falling and crashing in spring. Ducks and water drown out the cicada to a low buzz. If I’m intentional, the waterfall speaks to me in its’ own voice, reminding me of who created the stars, and calls them all by name. The voice that knows me by name and called me from the beginning. And the one who, I’m guessing, has a name for each Cicada.

Stuck In E

Cramped between faux leather cowboy, shiny boots;

Fragile teen, legs all jitters, has the window.

Stuck in E,

You’re nowhere near me,

As the plane heads to the land of my roots.

Mt. Sinai, the place that they’ll bury dad’s wife,

Fountains gleam, grass so green; where the dead go.

Stuck in E,

You’re nowhere near me,

In that place I spent a third of my life.

Spanish tile, Shadow Ranch, Sycamore calling,

Red brick stair, hot summers there, schoolboy carom.

Stuck in E,

You’re nowhere near me,

As the car radio blares Free-Falling.

Love Field, Myrtle, Pecan tree and lake abound,

Goodbye Mustard grown, foothill and Sierra.

Stuck in E,

You’re not far from me,

The road takes me to where my heart is found.