Good Life

The Great Debate


as if divinely ordained

the calm of a steamy August dusk

explodes in a loud tatoo,

the echoing response

of a hopeful mate

quickly follows,

Arid the lovely evening

becomes a cacophony.

The rhythm arid volume

increases —

as ears ever alert for signals

are bombarded

by the heated debate.

The raucous chorus

consumes the night —

one wonders whether

Katydid ...

... or didn't.