Getting rough out here

Getting rough out here.The cicadas of late summer are silent.Their crisp skins, strewn aroundmixed with acorns, lifeless leaves.My path is crossed by doomed survivors- old bees getting a final buzz off of their chests- limping crickets fooled by mid-day sun- crazy drunken flies in kamikaze loops.The praying mantis I spypoised on a fire escape downtownhas no religion.And the green katydid flying toward me with impossible wingsis unnerving.These squirrels are way ahead of me.Summer was just a dreamand they knew it.*Words by TFD

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