Beings who once walked the Earth
support new life as summer's serenade
begins to take shape 
upon stones that memorialize the past. 

Hunchbacked in nymphal form,
light brown crawlers move skyward
then cling by toes at tips of stout legs,
and new life emerges as their backs split open.

Bodies colored like watermelon tourmaline
showcase segmented abdomens and three pairs of legs.
While translucent wings slowly unfurl,
First steps are taken into freedom beyond. 

Leaving behind sheds of its underground life,
wings grow longer minute by minute.
Exquisite beauty at this teneral stage
forces awe to reach a crescendo.

Venation demarks cloudy glass windows
gilded in emerald and bronze.
I stare in awe, and then gaze about,
for others have also crawled up from the ground. 

Young Elden's grave stone provides the next sighting
of a discarded exuvia with an adult form above.
For several hours this insect paused
as blood pumped and its body transformed.

Contrasted against the pastel colors it once donned,
vivid camouflage will serve it well in tree tops.
Golden veins upon the elder's wings
fill my soul with admiration.

I'm forced to stand guard and dote 
for at last the ascension begins.
I suddenly realize all who enter here
must rise toward the heavens or at least the tree tops.

One muscular foot in front, five others follow,
all part of instinct beyond my understanding.
No other is there to offer guidance or to mimic,
it's all pure instilled knowledge from beginning to end.

With the summit now a certainty, 
I take time to quickly note intricate patterns.
Upon the upper thorax I see
the face of an owl bedecked in bow tie.

It is not for me to know when tented wings
will spread into flight and off he'll go. 
Without notice, a quick flap,
and he disappears into tree tops thither.

A few more hours must pass
before the younger insect can fly off likewise. 
New adventures await filled with raspy love songs
meant to continue the cycle of life.

On this summer day, hollow cast(ket)s left behind
provide a memory of vulnerable forms.
From soft pastel bodies to wide-faced creatures with bulging eyes,
I get to celebrate cemetery cicadas. 

Default: This is a work in progress. I’ve written a bunch of drafts, but it’s not quite there yet, so dear reader, you may see a revision at a later date.