The cicada revealed itself to me.
Gray to the touch,
Streamlining itself into oval curves,
To cooperate with the summer storms.
I listened to the tangy air.
Watched as they organized their flight
And as they disappeared
With their flowery baggage
All while lightning struck the air.
I think I was reading a book that talked about cicadas and I had an urge to look them up. Somehow that lead to this poem on a topic that I would never have chosen to do myself.
