and swallowed the last
of the snow of winter.
Gone for two weeks.
A lull in life
became
dusty brown and
dried like
the leaves lying
all around on
the ground.
We waited.
Peepers slowly
began their song
on the southern lake;
a few the
first day,
but no more.
Our longing for
the full-echo sound
of peepers almost
shouting
all around our heads
brought them out;
slowly,
slowly,
gently.
And then it
happened.
Their song
has swelled
to full bloom
and I am
deafened by
their screaming chant
that takes me into my heart.
The sound of the peepers
has been from all time,
and they are back.
