I can hear the cicadas now
Even with the ringing in my ears
The persistent clatter drones
Calling, calling, calling

Like all of life they are here now
They exist only at this point,
The point I barely pass through
My time is recalling, recalling,
The gone cicadas, the gone time

Or the ones still buried near the roots
The future noise hiding in years of dark
Right now, maybe those dream
Bug dreams of nymphs rattling wings
Juices that seep easily, an effortless shedding

It is late Summer, they pierce the hot dusk
It is critical that they mate right now.  Now.
I, on the other hand, can put off mating
I can ignore the Cicada Killers rising over the grass

Drawn to a chain saw rasp,
The wasps scour the bark of old trees
They will hear from miles away
They will see the exact moment.