Thursday, July 21, 2011

Day 16,723: Cicada Season

It's cicada season around here
I celebrate the daily discovery
Of discarded shells found in
Peculiar and precarious places
The first found last week
On the brick of the back
Of our house by the patio door
In the days and weeks ahead
There will be dozens vacated
On the stark and sturdy trunk
Of the Sycamore tree that
Is the guardian of our home
It makes sense that they
Would climb her considering
They awake from their slumber
In the warm, moist ground
At her base, between her roots
This cicada was called to climb
This swaying coneflower stem
In order to release itself
From the very vehicle
That assisted it to ascend
To such heights as to fly
Be free and to sing
Hopefully mate, ultimately die
More signs of transformation
Each and all with their season

I love my iPhone.

1 comment:

Amy said...

Im really really diggin the poetry.