Peepers

With the melting snow and the days lengthening,

the return of leaves and buds beginning, life’s renewal,

we await their song in the early evening, unannounced,

announcing themselves and the return of spring

with the shrill peeping of their chorus among the trees,

so tiny as to be invisible, filling the evening air with sound

lingering through the summer months, hardly aware

when the music stops and the days grow shorter.

Likewise, in autumn’s approach, the flowers withering,

faded remnants of color still atop their stalks and stems,

and the leaves fading, too, transforming to brighter shades

of red and orange and yellow, and hanging on tight, they

drop singly to the ground, succumbing to the season,

floating, drifting to the ground, blown dryly, scratching

along the garden path to gather along the stone wall,

and again, the peepers return, announced in long

lines of cars from away streaming north, the roar

of engines and the steady whine of tires, these autumn  

peepers come to watch the season change

and the beauty unveiled in its passing.