Posted by: Jonathan Caswell | July 26, 2012




A late July evening, I go outside to walk,

Find little creatures all over the drive…

The older ones know to scamper away

While the younger somehow manage to stay alive.


Toads in miniature sit immobile on concrete

As their elders treat me as a giant foul…

Green katydids at odd angles stay reposed

As cicada of this cycle start to howl.


My mother never did like cicada inside,

Or katydids—my wife is the same way—

About some distant myth that the beasties bit,

But you’d not like it either being put away.


Late July evenings, like August out here,

Once would lead to visits two-weeks-straight…

Those times are over but this time of year

Reminds me of family times great.


—Jonathan Caswell


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  1. excellent work

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