Frequent lakes for signs of turtles—necks like cornstalks reaching for the sun. Toe a circle in the cold sand. Sit cross-legged inside. Hold your arms akimbo, elbows jutting past the line you made like cypress knees in shallow water. Feel the sand grow warm beneath your body. Imagine that warmth radiate out from the ground, gaining momentum as it travels through the earth. Picture that spark wick to the surface. The dance of roots. Surge of verdant emergence. As you drive away, keep turning the radio’s dial until you coax out the cicada’s constant drone.