Cicadas at Sunset
by Isabell VanMerlin

And then she heard the cicadas sing
             or was it I who heard them,
and announced it to the mesmerizing sky
             not realizing I had spoken aloud?

And then he heard the cicadas sing
             wondering if they were male
or female cicadas and
             if there was a cicada boys’ choir?

And then they heard the cicadas sing
             with such verve and gusto …
How many cicadas might be singing
             and did they have to audition?

And what would it matter anyway?
             Cicadas are not like peacocks
displaying their feathers and colors
             at the least hint of audience.

What I’m saying is that my eyes
             were so overwhelmed with
the beauty of earth, sky and water
             I could not hear.

Is the sky, Father Sky?
             Is the Earth, Mother Earth?
All creation starts with water
             and light.

We know who threw in color and form
             and voice.


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