or, The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Poem about Cicadas.
You left your armor
clinging, empty
A hollow plaything
A zombie sentry
Now calling your lovers
to join in your song
Hordes in the trees
your voices are strong
Sing me to distraction
Sing me into dust
Sing to me all summer
for sing to me you must
When summer is gone
And you've done what you could
Your children will sleep safely
deep in the wood
Edited To Add: Wow. Perhaps I should have called it Cricketsong *crickets*. Anyway, who pronounces it cic-ay-da, and who pronounces it cic-ah-da?
numer darowizny: SRTF/067/SWD .
4 months ago