Poem Begun with a Line from Basho
Poem Begun with a Line from Basho
—in gratitude to Darby Lyons
A cicada shell; it sang itself utterly away.
Is that what they’ll say when I plunge to earth,
wings stopped in mid-flight?
It’s true, I’ve labored in the dark for years,
found my way out of tunnels in the mud,
left behind so many husks. They crackle
underfoot of the ones who never wait
their turn, who rush toward the front,
making the loudest sounds.
They never notice the patient hawk
who hides in the pine, whose eye and ear
perceive all standout shrieks for fame.
In one great swoop, they are swallowed
in a flash of talon and beak. While those
who sing in the chorus drone on, fall
to the earth in one piece. Sung out.
Reduced to echoes, remembered,
perhaps, by other insects, scavenged
aloft as holy on lacquered beetle backs.
9 thoughts on "Poem Begun with a Line from Basho"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
You’ve described (the cicada’s) life so beautifully with this poem! Thanks for sharing.
That switch in perspective is really effective and the poem expands on the haiku line in a new exciting way
So elegant, and one of the best (of several!) cicada poems I’ve read lately.
This poem is excellent. I love your identification with the cicada. I also love it when you break out with a fragment (when you write: “Sung out.”) It’s a surprise and it delighted this reader.
Phenomenal lines and quality images.
I feel your musical chops shine in this poem, too.
Like everyone else, I so appreciate how you used a brood of cicada as a crowd, and how you compare yourself to a powerful hawk.
Mastery.
Everyone else has said what is so fine in this poem I echo them. Well done!
You had me at: A cicada shell; it sang itself utterly away.
Wonderful cicada point-of-view imagining.
Oh my, so beautiful, Roberta! You’ve created a classic.
“… remembered,
perhaps, by other insects, scavenged
aloft as holy on lacquered beetle backs.”
Boom, and boom.