Stop... Listen... What's that sound?
Begrudgingly, your brain acknowledges the relentless, monotonous metallic hum. Timeless, persistent soundtrack of dog day afternoons across the South, the cicada song. Fueled by nature's incessant drive to survive, the cidada's serenade is a self-fulfilling prophecy, confirming next August's gig well in advance.
Same time, same place, same tune...
|Newly emerged adult with nymphal exoskeleton|