Soft shining blue, veined wings, a delicacy
matched only by lack of longevity.
Its ululating song weaves trees through
their twilight:
"Choose me! Choose me!"
until, having mated, returns once more
as more.
Having slept years in the warmth of
Earth.
Its shell cracks as it daintily emerges
to begin its song
again.
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Favorite Answer
The hum of the Cicada was over a decade in coming.
Memories of them humming their farewell in the last
stages of their lives.
Being lulled to sleep by them in the country at Grandma's
is a treasured memory.
Very imaginative, Elys, in the unique originality
of your prose.
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Unbelievable. Second poem in a day about Cicada's
and both good poems. These creatures are like small
Ptaradactyls, beautiful sound but not so sure about the
way they can expand their torso. Congrats though,
good one for you Elys.
Coop 366
As for beauty I can say yes but as for sound the droning of those notes irritate man ears. They are born for one thing and that is to mate. Very good.