C.J. W.
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CicadaAwake for a week
asleep for years Feed off the roots that a tree’s life steers Buried underground Where no one can see The life of an insect Is a life for me The dirt is my home the sky my city When I emerge, I will roam freely I may not be big but my appetite is great after I leave the ground I’m bright as a lake I hang upside becoming an adult changing to different colors One as white as salt When I escape and wait a few hours I can fly anywhere and be free among the flowers |