As I sit here with my windows open, the last light of the day is left. As the sun sets, the cicadas begin a cacophony of calls in tandem. The crickets also emit a chorus that is music to my ears. I take all of this in with great joy and familiarity.
Soon, a transition will take place between the vocal insects of the day and the vocal insects of the night. As darkness descends, so will the katydids and their distinctive call. The cicadas will cease until the heat of tomorrow’s sun awakens and stirs them for another day. The katydids will take over and call in earnest until the wee hours of the morning.
Far off, the mournful wail of a freight train’s horn calls way off in the distance and adds to the orchestra of the evening. “Where are they going? What freight are they hauling?” I sometimes think.
Times such as these induce this intense wanderlust within me. I want to strike out and journey into things and lands unknown. I want to discover what special moments such as these I can discover and capture in my writings. The road ahead of me waits. Will I have the courage to step out and journey down that road? Not for tonight. Tonight, I shall sit on my front porch with my pipe in hand and dream about what could be. Maybe, if only I could have the courage to follow my dreams.
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