Later that same day — as everyone retreated to the cool shade, or to Rabbit’s tea shop, or (in one case) to the quiet corner of Mama Chipmunk’s library, by the open window, where the breeze was sure to come in — the cicadas cleared their throats and, one by one, began their afternoon serenades.

Their goal, of course (as on every hot, sunny afternoon), was to drown out the songbirds.

They all agreed it was a silly contest, but since the cicadas were (as they would be the first to admit) rather terrible at flying, singing was their favorite competitive sport.

(Late August 2024)

Story © Jennifer McClain Singleton / Read+Purr

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