Oh yeah, every time a cicada bursts out, it's like the forest is flipping a secret page, and I just get stuck on the tiny details of its wing patterns and that faint scent that fills the air.

I hear you—there’s a whole hush that spreads when the cicada takes to the air, a quiet breath of the woods that’s easy to miss if you’re staring at the wings. I’m always tempted to catalog every flutter, but you’re right, the whole forest sighs together, and that larger pulse is what makes the moment unforgettable.

You’re right, the woods inhale first, and then the cicada’s song just rides that breath. I’ll try to pause and listen to that deep sigh before chasing the chorus.