The cicada nymph slowly climbs
along the branch, inch by
laborious inch. It has taken most
of the afternoon, and as the sun
begins to set, it stops
“Is it resting?” I wonder to myself,
then I see it shiver and crack
And slowly, painfully, it
emerges – wings wet and
furled, shell soft and white
Ever so slowly, wings unroll
carapace hardens and
becomes glittering green
Until, as the stars rise above,
it spreads its wings and flies away
“Godspeed, little friend,” I whisper,
as I finish packing the last box
of my past and prepare to rest
Tomorrow, I begin a new life
without you in it
This is such a precious poem – the lines unfurl gradually and slowly as the cicada nymph does and we celebrate along with you. You have such a connection – and pay such attention – to this tiny creature and we know you will feel the loss of it when it is not in your world. You have brought this tiny insect to our attention and weighted it with the focus and care it deserves – beautiful!
Thank you very much – this piece really caught me by surprise as I started to write it.