Last night I heard only one cicada singing its lonely hearts death song and actually prayed it'd find a mate. The rain finally came today and when the pups came in rolling around and delighted, I ran out the front door and down the steps and stood in it, grateful.
It stopped after a good soaking and a squirrel began barking and I realized how much I missed all that.
And I prayed.
And now the air is filled with a hundred more cicadas; the last one was neither last, nor alone.
Nor am I.