The air was silken and blithe, with the ease and simplicity only a Summer’s night could construe.  The velvety, sapphire sky was studded here and there with flickering stars.  The earth had quieted, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of the cicada song.   Dogday cicadas emerge in…

  The rhythmic whir and hum rose and fell like waves on a tumultuous sea, growing more intense as the sun journeyed westward.  Their voices were part of the seasonal back drop, forming the rich fabric of Summer’s chorus.  The cicada song.   The cicadas are but invisible sirens – heard but not seen,…