If I dug and dug — visited and revisited all of my usual haunts — I might come up with a better opening for today’s nonsense, but I doubt it. This is by Denise Levertov and is called “Animal Spirits.” It appeared in today’s Writer’s Almanac.

When I was five and
undifferentiated energy, animal spirits,
pent-up desire for the unknown built in me
a head of steam I had
no other way to let off, I ran
at top speed back and forth
end to end of the drawingroom,
bay to French window, shouting–
roaring, really–slamming
deliberately into the rosewood
desk at one end, the shaken
window-frames at the other, till the fit
wore out or some grownup stopped me.

But when I was six I found better means:
on its merry gallows
of dark-green wood my swing, new-built,
awaited my pleasure, I rushed
out to it, pulled the seat
all the way back to get a good start, and
vigorously pumped it up to the highest arc:
my legs were oars, I was rowing a boat in air–
and then, then from the furthest
forward swing of the ropes

I let go and flew!

At large in the unsustaining air,
flew clear over the lawn across
the breadth of the garden
and fell, Icarian, dazed,
among hollyhocks, snapdragons, love-in-a-mist,
and stood up uninjured, ready
to swing and fly over and over.

The need passed as I grew;
the mind took over, devising
paths for that force in me, and the body curled up,
sedentary, glad to be quiet and read and read,
save once in a while, when it demanded
to leap about or to whirl–or later still
to walk swiftly in wind and rain
long and far and into the dusk,
wanting some absolute, some exhaustion.

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Ever hear the cicadas when they’re really roaring/buzzing? It’s pretty impressive. They have spent over a decade underground. Then they bore through the soil and up to the treetops. What they do next — what you hear like vuvuzelas at a soccer match — is buzz for a mate. We’ve all been there. Some of us are still trying to get down from the tree. Don’t rush me!

This dude may look like a rapper or break dancer (says my inner racist), but it’s Dr. Sammy Ramsey, an entomologist at U. of Colorado Boulder. He’s got something other than a cicada in his hand, valued at two of whatever it is in the bush, as the saying goes.

According to the doc, there are seven species of periodical cicadas, called magicicada.  “There’s no other thing like this in the world. You can only experience this crazy, mass emergence of periodical cicadas in North America. So they earned a reputation for being magical.

“We have a rather unusual occurrence this year: Two different broods are going to emerge at the same time.  Brood XIX emerges every 13 years and Brood XIII emerges every 17 years. They only sync up every 221 years.

“Every emergence is an amazing feat of coordination. Then, once they are all out and in a tree, males will coordinate their mating calls with each other. They all fly to the same tree and coordinate this whirring sound. That sound isn’t ever a single cicada, or an uncoordinated patch of cicadas. That’s them all linking together and producing this amplified sound to sing to as many females as possible.

The doc goes on to explain:

“Cicadas wait until the evening to emerge from the ground. This is the most vulnerable stage of their entire life cycle, so they wait for dusk because squirrels and birds are less inclined to come after them.

“Look for cicadas burrowing out of turrets in the ground. They’ll climb up the nearest vertical surface — the side of a house, trees, vehicle tires or anything else they can find. The backs of their exoskeletons will split open and out will crawl a squishy, white organism. It takes time for cicadas to harden, so they’ll just have to sit there for a while, barely able to move.

“Eventually, they will gain the capacity to fly, and the males will sing. Their song will grow in intensity over about a week and a half as more cicadas come out of the ground, until it is a constant sound during the day. Look into the trees during this time and you might see cicadas darting back and forth. Those are the males, looking for a female who has snapped her wings to signal interest in mating. The hottest ones will be smoking a cigarette and wearing a tube top.

“A little over a month after they show up, it’ll be over. By mid-July there’s usually not a periodical cicada to be found.”

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Hey — have you been missing Caitlin Clark heaving those threes up, or driving the lane? Me too. Well, her first pro game is tonight. We can catch her on ESPN2 at 7:30. Her Indiana Fever is playing the Connecticut Sun. Break a leg, CC!

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In today’s puzzle, 58A was “Wharton or Sloan, informally,” and the answer was BSCHOOL, for Business School, duh. We sent Phil out on an assignment to NYU, but it didn’t go too well. He got this one shot before security was called. At least he didn’t leave any equipment behind this time as he fled.

“Okay Boomer?” was a cutesy clue at 19A for TNT. Are you familiar with the insult? I hope not. It’s what a millennial hurls at an old fogie (Boomer) dismissively.

“You know, all that time buried in your phone isn’t doing you any good.”

“Okay Boomer.”

21D was new to me: “Traveling fashion sale featuring the work of a specific designer.” TRUNK SHOW. Wikipedia says a trunk show is an event in which vendors present merchandise directly to store personnel or customers at a retail location or other venue such as a hotel room. It may allow store personnel to preview merchandise before it’s available to the public. A particular designer may be present to add to the experience. The merchandise is often transported in a trunk — hence the name. They are popular in the bridal industry.

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The Onion featured this story today: A Day In The Life Of Rudy Giuliani

After years of serving in some of the highest positions of the U.S. government, Rudy Giuliani has had an unprecedented fall from grace, forcing him to file for bankruptcy last year. Here’s an inside look at how the once-beloved NYC mayor now spends his days.

• 9 a.m.: Top-up embalming fluid.
• 11:46 a.m.: Reset pigeon traps.
• 1 p.m.: Two-hour nap to digest stray cat he had for lunch.
• 3:20 p.m.: Beg stranger at adjacent urinal to be his accountant.
• 5:02 p.m.: Take “Which Sex And The City Character Are You?” quiz.
• 6 p.m.: Dinner of whatever adhered to sole of loafer over course of day.
• 7:43 p.m.: Scan family tree for potential fourth wife.
• 9 p.m.: Lay out tomorrow’s barrel and suspenders.
• 9:45 p.m. Have his sexual advances stopped by a hand to the forehead.
• 10 p.m.: Desperately try old gate code at Gracie Mansion.

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At 25D, “Hum bug?” was BEE. It led Son Volt to share this song by Laura Cantrell with us. Exquisite.

And here’s Laura. Nice shot Philly. Hauntingly beautiful.

And, again.

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Hey, remember a short piece we wrote on Art Schallock, who pitched for the Yanks in the early 50s and just turned 100? He responded to my polite request for his autograph with two signed index cards. A little shakily, but not bad for 100. Thanks Art!

See you tomorrow! Thanks for stopping by.