Cicadas

Skin--like brooches--clings to the roof
Cicada's songs are clipped to the visor
             But summer takes the roads loose places
Pine trees remember elves
Shoot fletchings of needles down around me
Summer wavers like a mirage, just above
The leaf litter, breathing songs
Half smoke, half resin
We cough stanzas after the a/c
Fades from our skin

Sharing with The Sunday Muse's Wednesday Muse Cicadas! prompt. Summer is hanging on with both hands and all ten fingers here--however, yesterday's rain made today's morning writing session a lovely lagniappe of fall to come but that lasted only until the empty park and sounds of unseen squirrels got the shivers going and me constantly looking over my shoulder. Usually I'm not as on edge, but there were cars but no people (probably they were further along the paths) and I guess it's close enough to fall that spooky thoughts are close to the surface. 

Hope everyone is having a good week!

-- Chrissa