The nymphs have awakened from their slumber
Just as Mother Nature decreed.
Their years of sleep have prepared them for
the call that they must heed.
They cast off the shells of their previous life
And take flight on gossamer wings.
They journey to a secret place--
An ancient song they sing.
The trees and meadows all spring to life
With this unlikely symphony.
The melody fills the summer air
And is carried away by a breeze.
Their accompaniment surrounds them.
The birds chirp gleefully.
Soprano is provided by the mosquitos’ hum--
Bass, by the buzzing bees.
The lyrics are sung in a forgotten tongue,
One that was never known by man.
They offer a story of promise and hope
“What once was will be again.”
A few days ago, it dawned on me that I haven't written a poem in quite some time. I recently heard from a couple of old friends from a now defunct forum I belonged to (waves @ Penny & Lynn) which stirred up some old memories....one of them being my penchant for breaking out in rhyme at any given moment. I am much more Seuss-y than Dickinson but putting words together has always been a great love of mine. Not sure why I stopped. I guess my interests turned to other things and folks quit requesting them.
We've been invaded by cicadas. From what I've read, this is a 13 year group. They are not much to look at and the shells they leave behind kinda freak me out but the singing! I could listen to them all day. They get on my hubby's nerves though. He thinks they sound like a bunch of weedeaters running all at once.
Somehow, these homely critters have become the muse for my first poem (if you can call it that) in years. They've also intrigued me enough to go stomping around in my yard looking for some to photograph.
Just an example of their "hulls"....*shudder*.
They do have pretty wings.
You can see his hull behind him.
