When one day passes into the next,
a thin time,
when deepness of a new day
begins its passage,
I heard cicadas,
a thousand voices,
sing Your name.

It filled the room with such reverence,
such verve,
I wondered
how one could possibly sleep
through the sonance.

Why didn’t the neighborhood notice,
throw open their windows,
dance outside their doors
in nightgowns
swirling and twirling
in adoration.

Chanting your thousand names
in late August,
early morn
I gave thanks for their prayer,
their praise
in honor of us,
who,
in our mortal lives,
sleep through thin times
under starlight and cicada psalm.

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

I walked into the bedroom very late at night, early morning, a few days ago. It was cool, so the fan was not on. The sound of the cicadas was so loud, I could hardly believe my husband was sleeping right through it.

I immediately thought of the thousand names of the Divine. I thought of the new Celtic spirituality I am coming to understand and embrace. I thought how lucky I was to be alive.

Thank you to my Celtic friends, Scott Jenkins, Macushla, Kathleen E. Moore, and so many others. I am on a new journey and every day brings delight and blessing and gratitude that you are in my life.