Ticking away like the hands of a clock,
Pause, as if commanding Time like a god.
Nothing can make the katydid stop.
Nothing quiets the song coming down from the top.
Pulsing with rhythm it chooses to beat,
Rubbing its wings and moving its feet.
Nothing can make the katydid weep.
Nothing can silence what nightly does peep.
Friction riots noise through the air,
Raising its voice and lifting fine hairs.
Nothing can make the katydid silent.
Nothing can turn its peace into violence.
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