Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Cicadas

Dormancy -- what's the use?
Who's to know we even existed?  Truth.

Rising drone, shrill with rue.
Swarm drunk through trees in June.

Fat thunk:  carcass slaps bark.
Eyes aglow -- we never fly in the dark.

Nestle under moss, under shale, pry
twigs aside, try to hide

our summer song in oak, pale, brown and dry.
Thrumming loudly now in manzanita.  Broke

a branch on the way down
to answer for Northern, wind-borne sounds.

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