A beautiful summer day dawned upon Okinawa. The sun is ever vigorous, steadily climbing from a lazy morning to scorching high noon.
The cicadas make their song like the waves upon the nearby ocean bay, or the cooling breezes which sways the verdant trees. It's the very essence of summer.
Oh to linger beneath the giant banyan trees, to listen to this strange symphony, as sun slips covertly towards the relaxing waters of the China sea to bathe before visiting others lands.
Here in the land of the rising sun, it is the cicada that never ceases to celebrate a summer festival, and with a glad heart I slip into dreams.
I dreamed a dream where the cicada's as big as normal folks with their crystalline wings played their music for the reclining sovereign of summer, the Sun, as the fair full moon dances over head for the Sun's pleasure.
Waking from my dream, the cicadas still play.