And found the darkness was inhabited,
Possessed by summer singers.
Crickets, katydids, locusts, cicadas,
Filled my head with music and delight.
But after sixty summers my old ears
Have grown so used to summer sounds
I hear them all year round.
Insect choruses seem to sing for me
Even in December’s cold
And I can find the music of a summer night
Whenever I just close my eyes
And listen to my mind.