mid-day poem, may 31, 2016

.

Nothing moved in the forest
But the cicadas were screaming
All billion of them invisible
Filling the air with desperate, threatening noise

They are an apocalyptic army
What the Bible called locusts
Their sound like some cosmic electricity
In wires too thin
Overloaded and ready to explode.

For ten miles it rose and fell
Never abating, like ocean breakers
Loud as jets
As if the sun’s all-searching heat
Had been given voice

Copyright 2016

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One Response to mid-day poem, may 31, 2016

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