Cicada Song

The hills were alive with the August tune of insects living in the parched grass; a dead state prison sat amongst them all in this small Ohio town. We pulled off the road into a dirt clearing - the shape of a guard tower faded in through the cloud of dust, then more brick buildings appeared across the road; it was a perfect place to spend an hour or two with the blazing sun still so high. Aside from a few strange looks from passing motorists, the day was relaxing and uneventful.

I packed my bag up next to the outer guard tower next to the road and to my surprise I found a round stone (pretty close to a sphere), about 1 inch in diameter and polished smooth as if it was in a river. It was not perfect by any means, but it didn't look natural at all... perhaps it was an old rock formed by natural forces, or maybe something to pass the time for an old inmate of the Roseville Jail...?