蝉

The last days of the rainy season,
And something clicks-on in the brain
Of the cicada, who now has a reason
To dig it's way up from the dirt,
Under the roots of the maple tree,
Where it had been subsisting, waiting,
Seven years for this moment, patiently,
I suppose, but still wonder about
What, if anything, the bug was thinking,
All those years underground without
Air or light or motion, simply drinking
Tree-root sap and slowly growing,
Protected by being deep underground...
But now, a signal has been received
To claw and climb up and around
All obstacles, and emerge into the air
Of summer, grow wings, make sound,
With millions of other bugs also there,
The cicada sings mightily, under the sun,
For two weeks, then falls quiet, and is done.