The dog and I set out on our evening walk to the rhythm of a thousand cicadas. To the west, the sun was dropping below the tree line.
To the east, the evening sky was blushing the palest pink.
Fields of soybeans stretched lush and green.
With a nod to autumn just around the corner, dried weeds spread a delicate lace against the sky.
As darkness fell, we wandered home, and still the cicadas sang, and crickets joined the song.
