• Life,  Nature

    The Mating Game

    It’s cicada season in my backyard, and pretty much everywhere I go. Not just cicadas but frogs too. During the day all I can hear is the whirring, rattling sound of tiny prop engines calling out to each other. At night its the chirruping of frogs in trees or bushes. Obviously, the mating game is afoot. I don’t mind the frogs so much; their soft croaks aren’t really croaks at all, not even in the sense of it. The sound is more like some sort of loud cricket or night bird. But the cicadas…they have got to stop. It’s bad enough seeing the husks lying around (although once they’ve abandoned…

  • Poetry

    Cyclic Interpretations

    Felt in the mood to write today so I headed over to Poets On the PageΒ to see what the prompt was for this week. Turns out they want us to write about cycles. Well, the one cycle I think I’m most attuned to is one that rules my life, the moon. Every month since I was 12 it has determined how my body runs in relation to it’s own cycles, along with the tides. But I began to see it from a different perspective. I realized that much like a woman aging, the moon shows her age in her face as well. And from there, the poem wrote itself. I…