cicada

for when you cannot feel the rain

In a chrysalis beneath the earth I wait

To unshell myself, an exoskeleton

Soft and young and pale, undyed but dry

 Here, the rain cannot reach me, here

There are no fingers but still

I brush away the spider web sensation on my

Brow, which is only the roots of the

Iris or the cattail in the marshland.

Does it matter that I cannot feel the rain

When I wait in the heavy damp clay

Making pots beneath the earth

Mimicking artifacts to throw off some

Poor anthropologist who mistakes

The Neolithic for a cicada?

I shall be false as the found old body

Left clinging to a leaf.

I shall devour your roots, mar your trees

And then sing you to sleep

When the rain stops.

Reviews

[Nicola Taylor]

This has great imagery. I particularly like this part:

"I shall devour your roots, mar your trees
And then sing you to sleep
When the rain stops."

[Evangeline]

Very nice. I love the strong word you used and how you analogize throughout out the piece.

[Restlesslittlesoul]

So beautiful!

Your descriptions are so detailed that it´s like being inside your mind, and being the subject of your poem.

I can´t quote one particular line or paragraph because the entire poem is exquisite!

What a beautiful poet you are!

[Ed Hart]

how wonderful that you let your mind go to these wild places to share what you can see