Just a few weeks ago the fields and skies were brimming with excitement! Bugs of all colors, shapes and sounds were zipping, darting, circling and meandering everywhere you walked. Some were after AMORE, some were just looking for their next meal, often the smaller, slower more defenseless bug.
Often would the bugs bounce into my chest and flutter away. I can imagine what the intensity of such once-in-a-lifetime lust concentrated in a few short days can do to one's radar, can't you?
And since there were SO MANY BUGS, you could see the birds all aflutter with such a feast at their disposal. One little robin was chasing a butterfly, who frantically sought escape, fluttering up, then left, straight down and curlyque back around, much like a fighter pilot taking evasive action.
Now it's August and it seems the 100 degree heat has slowed all such movements. Only the crickets and occassional cicada can be heard at night, a ritual repeated this time of year as long as I can remember.
Next comes the color, the chill and the Christmas thrill;
as a new feast lies deep within the winter field.
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