I feel your breath on my lips

As I count each and every cicada

Climbing its way up the trees.


I would normally recoil–

Cower away, and duck and cover  

But I just stare.

 

They come out of hiding after years.

Looking for their mate,

Wanting to feel love at least once

Before they shrivel up and die.

 

And my god,

They came to the right place.