Cicada songs
flooding and ebbing through the dark forest
like ocean waves breaking on a pebbled beach.
The rise and fall of their chorus
like a hymn of praise
or an urgent warning.
Short arias become duos and then trios
until the whole choir erupts
like chill-bumps on the skin.
And it then drains down slowly like a dying engine
to collapse into silence
as if a door had closed or a curtain had dropped
on something you were certain was vaguely familiar
and subtly important
but had failed to grasp.
Grey Sparrow Journal 