Seventeen years
Under ground
The cicada waits
Without making a sound.
Then one summer morning
With no one in sight
The cicada emerges
Into the light.
No wonder he sings
All evening long.
For seventeen years
He held back his song.
© 2010 Debra and Charles Ghigna
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5 comments:
I love this one.
Yes, me too. In our old neighborhood, when the cicadas came up and climbed the trees...our children would gather the shells and stick them to their shirts by the barbs in the feet!
Thank you for sharing this one. I look forward to reading it at breakfast tomorrow.
A.
Charles, what a cool poem that you and your poet wife collaborated on. I read something about her somewhere the other day and have been meaning to get ahold of some of her work.
That first stanza kind of creeps me out:>) and then the last stanza is so gorgeous and heartfelt. Lovely.
Nice poem!
Laura Evans
Thank you Jacqui, Amy, Laura and Laura! Debra and I were considering "Cicada" for a new book we're working on. Your comments here might be just enough to help it make the final cut. Thanks!
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