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End of Summer Song

The cry of the cicada
Gives us no sign
That presently it will die.

— Matsuo Basho

Summer slipped away quickly this year. It always does, really, but especially when the weather is uncooperative for large swaths of outdoor living time. So it goes.

The cicadas signal the dog dats of summer but also its end. We know the signs of autumn by now, and it begins with that uniquely mournful song that they make from the trees. Their time is now, the cry, and so too is ours.

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