JULY TURNS INTO AUGUST...and guess who's singing?

 

Their deafening cries

Often trouble our skies;

Such high-pitched,

Cacophonous wails!

I find their spent bodies:

[Discarded, dead armor],

Amongst dirty rags

And old pails…

Yet, tales wrung from nature

Make note of a feature

These creatures have

Harbored for years:

Their lives follow patterns

“Dog-day, or periodical”

Once known,

We can brace

Brittle ears!!

L.P.G. / 2026