Cicada

Poem By Anthony Fry

Beautiful songs sung by strangers, piercing echoes through long hot summer days.
Silent sunset, streaks of silky yellow light, a golden glow, passionate cool twists.
Sunlight yellow lichened walls, intimacy secretly spiced with timeless possibilities.
White clouds building bridges, wonderful roads sailing from earth into blue sky.

Enjoying this cause in a quiescent period, their molt regeneration again begins.
A strategy called semelparity, lustily and greedily ready for their next resurrection.
An echelon of thorny hedge rows, visions of warmth sitting in green juniper-trees.
Hurry we have no time for ease, a magic dream is wrought for instant release.

Returning as cultural prehistoric symbols, immortals enjoying their journey over again.
Behold merry voices, understanding their mood, after maturation for seventeen years.
Never can enough female cicadas, satisfy this crazy behaviorism of hot intent males.
Individual loquacious voices echo, reasons right for deducing erotic sexual functions.

Esteemed in a maroon cloak, appearing on a shrub then shedding my garment.
Timeless Greek history BC, folklore introducing bronzed semi-skin female beauty.
Imagination running wild a humble lady bug, in her ornate colored fancy rigmarole.
Chinese Myths spoken and written, stories about exotic treasures of reincarnation.

A females shiny brown shell, using her powers for future generations to survive.
Manic mates pole dancing their way, into his red lust filled eyes of wanton greed.
Hordes of hungry genus magi-cicada, rapture their unison to sounds of gentleness.
Observers look in awe, as you give your life for your own light of a new morning.

During it's time above ground, busy male cicada resonates music from his abdomen.
Attracted by sounds and singing a spider, in his web so snugly, watching, waiting.
The cicadas provocative appetite, an esteemed final showdown of sexual identity.
With elfin wings, glamour of a lotus, humming back and fore making her offspring.

Aliens surviving on pure water, muses producing non stop for two weeks without food.
Female cicada flit like a dragonfly, patiently between scalloped branches inseminating.
A cicada nymph trembling, gently falls to warm dry earth from whence it first alighted.
I bade thee feast at your delight till bursting, I will replenish myself a thousand fold.

Amongst ivory white weathered dry bones, snug and cosy from whence I have come.
Dancing and chattering garrulously cicada, invisibly engraved in dry earth tunnels.
Energy possessed from root sucking, an unending timeless aphrodisiac effect.
Life imbibing sap freely flowing, once more regenerating young limbs alive again.

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