Shift Change

The cicadas have come after seventeen years.
Rising up, they are rasping their joy to be living.
Meeting their mates, like couples in airports,
They'll mill for a while. I watch from a distance.
I had someone recently. Now, we are done.
The cicadas are rising. I wish them success.
It's my turn to go back underground.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 93 times
Written on 2016-04-19 at 14:35

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