When the windmill runs its never ending turns, and the metal blades slice the air with chops of little thwacks and whacks, and the head above spins slowley around as the wind changes, it covers the ground below with rhythms beats and deep bass notes, that will capture the heart of those who are in attendance.
When the cicada crawls out of their comfort holes of dirt and bark, and gain the strength to fly to the protection of the trees, and anchor their legs to the bark, it will add the perfect pitch. The rapid buckling and unbuckling of the drumlike tymbals of their bodies, will create their sounds and timbre, that full volume of each throughout the summers heat. The perfect tune is in harmony with the windmill, so much strength in volume, and rock the days of summers heat.
The ancient old windmill has stood the test of over seventy five years, and it plays each one for the new cicadas, who play their song again.
Ralph Peck
Photo by Ralph Peck
Chouteau , Oklahoma
Comments