The heat of August,
Michigan, USA,
to be precise,
heavy, muggy air filled
with the clamor of cicadas
singing their mating song.

Occasionally broken by
the violence of a
cicada wasp, stinging
dying, implanting,
in order for another
Google it.

Garden vegetables of
lush, thick vines,
or bolting lettuce,
and toppling tomatoes
demanding to be picked.
A day missed, and they
fall to ground and rot.

The days growing shorter
belie the heat and crops,
but hint at what’s to come.
Season from season,
round we go.

All of life flows
from season to season,
from life to death
to new life.

These days death seems
far more real then hope.
The thickness of loss,
of fear, of risk.
The dense weight
of grief, made heavier
from the senselessness
of violence.

Hope will surely come
like the cool breeze
of fall.
And these times
will turn fallow,
resting, cooling,
and then
new life
will rise.

This is my prayer
on a hot Tuesday
in August.

The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski is an Episcopal priest serving a parish in Dearborn, Michigan. She’s been a member of RevGalBlogPals since 2006 and blogs at Seeking Authentic Voice.

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