Transition

The song of the cicadas swells upon me,

Beating wings drum louder and louder

And then drift off into the tree branches,

As if off to serenade the heavens.

Caw caw caw squawk the black birds

As they circle the tree tops,

And the croak of the tiny frogs

Are barely heard in the surrounding rush.

The same warm breeze that tickles my skin

Sways the oak leaves to and fro,

A tease in the breeze. A shimmer, a shake,

A dance through the tall pines,

And it is done.

As the sun seeps into the west,

The cloak of twilight drapes

Itself across my shoulders.

Feeling like a part of the process,

I take comfort in slow shifts.

One by one. They quietly emerge.

Some brightly stand watch

While others flicker and sway

To the song of the cicadas.

38 thoughts on “Transition

  1. I got totally emerged in this one, Suzie!

    I could so clearly see, hear, and FEEL every word as you spoke it.

    Brava, dear lady!

    You are sooooo talented.

    X

  2. from fireworks from your sister’s page to calm and serene at your page. You have a gift of intertwining words and nature…my mind’s eye loves it.

  3. SO beautiful. We all really are part of the process of nature unfolding, arent’we?

    Umm, the cloak of twilight upon your shoulders — how perfect.

    Thank you, lovely Suzicate!
    xo

  4. This is quite an amazing poem. Do you live in the south? In Tim McGraw’s Southern Voice he sings about cicadas, but I’ve never heard them.

  5. We noticed a strange ceramic cicada while exploring for antiques today. We started talking about their sound…it’s the sound of late summer. I love it, find it so comforting–although it can almost be deafening! Beautiful poem, Suzicate.

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