The breeze fades away as the sun goes down|
And a welcome hush falls over the town.
Long weeks of work and weekends of play
As the last sunlight fades from the sky in the west
Just as the children put down their toys,
A new sound begins, beyond any before,
It's late in the summer; the evenings are hot.
Much to the dismay of every guy and gal,
They are joined by cicadas, augmented by frogs,
Then suddenly, all the din comes to a stop.
Much longed for respite seems right at hand,
They might pause a bit, taking just a short break;
And so the songs go, for hours at a time,
Then gradually, ever so slightly at first,
And one by one, the bugs' songs subside,
Their symphony finally has run out of steam.
A few precious moments past the end of the singing,