For the Cicadas

Do you lament
Insouciance
Has been your symbolic
Appointement?

I hope you don't,
I for one won't
Use the term
For you.

But in our time
There's little rhyme
For an apology of much use,

Yet let me sing
Your praises clear
My loud rich little friends.

Your tune's obtuse
But more than the birds
Your life represents

The Orphic myth
But with a twist
You loose no partner when you ascend

From underground
After all those years
So there's no need for tears.

Maybe that's why
We charge insouciance
And deny
Your right to recompense.

But tell me who else,
While snow comes and snow melts
For so many seasons,
Waits in the dark underground

For a simple chance to be free
And to sing what's to sing
All the while
Being at the bottom

Of the animal chains
Of being and eating.

And for such little time
Do you see the sun.
Perhaps even less than a season.

You above all else
Sense the ephemeral
Drift and unreason.

Yes, when you fall
From the trees
And litter the paths
With your green iridescent bodies

Then we will see
How remarkably
You bore
The unbearable lightness of being.