We'll Listen to the Surf Together, But Now--?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMCCCXLIV)

Out where the bullfrogs loudly chorus, dense
Night cut by lightning flashes' silent tale
Above the North, an airplane's voice in frail
Excuse at intervals 'non slicing thence
Through deeper calm as crickets' throbbing sense
Of playing at second fiddle in the pale
Chill keeps time, where ne winds pass through t'avail,
Yet as the moist air smells like summer, whence?
I wonder. It's like camping as it were
Upon the city's edge, where trucks sift through
The intersection, cars now too, but fer
All that none speaks. Clouds are worn fragments blue
E'en watches melt away. And ne soul'd stir.
I hug my knees and wish YOU were here too.

20Aug18b