the cicada's have begun to emerge
after seventeen long years as a dormant miner
they arise, pushing through seveteen years of dust
and compounded muclch, breaking out into a brave new world
and for seventy two hours, if they are lucky
they seek to mate, to consumate to extend their species
some become garish decorations on truck windscreens
some become exhibits in a small boys jam jar zoo
some become waylaid and sing their cacophonial opus
on barren concrete patio's
some become Sunday dinners to peckish nestlings
some succeed gloriously, then die happy
some don't...succeed...and die wondering
but apparently seventeen years ago...
a lot succeded...
if the booming base opera being performed
is a gauge of the primeval drive of the cicada
it is summer eve in the burbs
and the living is..... noisy....