ARRIVAL
I await a
cicada
the first
to emerge
from its
underground burrow
at the oak’s
brown skirt.
Wingless
at first
then red-eyed
and loud
there’s never
just one
they move
in a crowd.
I await a
cicada
the first
of the brood.
A seventeen-year
miracle
periodically
viewed.
For more information about Brood X, check out Cicada Safari. Irene has the Poetry Friday roundup at Live Your Poem.
I await a
cicada
the first
to emerge
from its
underground burrow
at the oak’s
brown skirt.
Wingless
at first
then red-eyed
and loud
there’s never
just one
they move
in a crowd.
I await a
cicada
the first
of the brood.
A seventeen-year
miracle
periodically
viewed.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021
For more information about Brood X, check out Cicada Safari. Irene has the Poetry Friday roundup at Live Your Poem.
Ha ha ha! I know you wrote about the cicada...but you've described a bunch of teens emerging from...the movies? Great work.
ReplyDeleteHA! Teens and cicadas! Who knew?!?!
DeleteI've read that this is the year of the cicada. We get them every year and boy are they loud. The sound is like nothing else.
ReplyDeleteI like how you turned the cicada waiting to I await... nice! (Wouldn't they love to know they are being anticipated ??) xo
ReplyDeleteDisappearing comment. . . I love your poem marking this extraordinary event, Mary Lee. They are not here, but it's great to read about & see that picture!
ReplyDeleteMary Lee, years ago we had the arrival of cicadas in Long Island. There was so much publicizing of the event like today. Your poem captures the moment and will give me a chance to binge on the facts.
ReplyDeleteLove this. Kind of menacing! And see this for what cicadas and teens have in common :>) https://messaging-custom-newsletters.nytimes.com/template/oakv2?campaign_id=34&emc=edit_sc_20210514&instance_id=30825&nl=science-times&productCode=SC®i_id=86326635&segment_id=58063&te=1&uri=nyt%3A%2F%2Fnewsletter%2F131b1c29-f13c-50e5-b3bd-a0cbc237a42e&user_id=8338ac5532c5e4f479cd8c842c05dbd7
ReplyDeleteI'm a little envious of those of you who get to see multitudes of cicadas rather than one at a time, although I suppose it could be overwhelming. I love "await a / cicada," "the oak’s / brown skirt," and the conversational tone of your poem.
ReplyDeleteLove this! You had me at "the oak's brown skirt." Also liked the rhyme in the final stanza. :)
ReplyDeleteBrilliant poem, Mary Lee. It could be the blurb on horror movie poster, "red-eyed and loud"...ominous. :)
ReplyDeleteWow! I've never thought of this! Where have I been? Every seventeen years? "Wingless /at first /then red eyed/ and loud." You've definitely showed them.
ReplyDeleteMy cicada poem loves your cicada poem, especially the oak tree's brown skirt. "Awaiting a cicada" heee.
ReplyDeleteOK, should I admit that while, I love your poem, especially the last stanza, the cicadas gross me out a little bit! Eww! I'm glad we don't have them in Colorado.
ReplyDeleteI just came from reading Heidi's cicada poem - how wonderful to have so many voices celebrating the rarely heard voices of the cicadas!
ReplyDeleteI love the cicada's song and I recently got a wee bit more obsessed with them after listening to the cicada episode of the "Ologies" podcast. I love your poem, Mary Lee! The cicada's life cycle is indeed strange and miraculous.
ReplyDelete