Listening to the battle between the cicadas’ song and the silence in the air
As she watches the hands of time tick so slowly.
She heaves a sigh that had left her dry mouth
like a wind that might whisk her away.
The trill from the sharp chorus of cicadas ripple like chimes dancing in the air
The orange streams of bright light in the sky
Begin to darken into ember coals.
She gleans at the ceilings with their cream-colored emptiness
As if uncovering hidden messages on the walls.
She closes her dozy eyes, only to open them once more.
Restless like a crowded roundabout in rush hour,
She listens as the loud cicadas’ sounds Are drowned by the deafening silence.