Ecstatic Coda to a Cyclical Existence

CICADAS

Ceding seclusion,

They escape their dank caves

        of seventeen years,

Scrape and dig unaided skyward,

Seek the shady side of leaf or stick,

Stick there upside-down all day,

Squeeze achingly, red eyes wide,

Discarding nymph’s husk:

A sacred rite of passage.

 

Sixty-eight discarded shells

On the honeysuckle bush,

Sixty-eight adults scattered

In the shadows: skulking, silent;

Soon to screech and drone—

A psychotic cadence—in the

Scorching heat of summer days,

Seeking their scheduled date

to mate:

Ecstatic coda to a

Cyclical existence.

 

–Andrew Speno

May 2004