Magicicada

Seventeen years
since last they sang
shrill hymns to
the ordinary sky.

Time, indifferent,
has hurried by.

So many worlds ago.
Friends and lovers.
Dreams and desires.
Multitudes gone now.
Lives like songs sung.

Natural parts of
the earth’s turning;
nothing to fear.

I shall not live to
hear this chorus
return and lift again.

Nature’s God does not lie.

I must step outside
the cycle and die.

Thank you, locusts,
and goodbye.