Cicadas

[Zeniyama]

Flat earth
Littered with shells
Wide-open heaven
A black, swarming cloud
Hissing
Buzzing
Thousands of green bodies
In the hot sky

I am in their shadow
I cannot fly
In the heavy, hot air
But can only lie down
Close my eyes
And let them drown my mind
In their hot summer
Chorus

[hallaig]

too true. Can feel the heat from this. Off to the land of the cicada soon