Summer Bugs

When magnified, as it is every 17 years, the sound is vaguely electrical: a buzz, a hum, a snap. Almost menacing. But when captured on an ordinary June morning it's the sound of summer itself. Light and shimmering and full of promise, if only the promise of heat.

This year I first heard cicadas on June 20, the first day of summer. A fitting debut. It was just a few bars, not even a stanza. A song interrupted, as if the insects were tuning up. 

By now, though, it has become a full-fledged chorus. Sing on, summer bugs. There's no better way to know the season has truly begun.