The last cicada sings

Into the crisp fall air

A final proclamation of

Fall’s end, winter’s era

Leaves cling

To branches high

Not one wants

To surrender and die

A father dreams

Of his son’s flight

But silence returns

From youth's seasoned night

Seasons change

Seasons go

Seasons remain

Ever so slow

Summer leaves

To find its fall

The stillness breaks

Upon us all – we fall

The last cicada sings

The final tear drops

We are cold

We are small

A baby cries

Her first breath of life

Mother’s arms are broken

An infant will live in strife

Seasons change

Seasons go

Seasons remain

Ever so slow

Sometimes we must burrow

Deep into earth

Waiting there, searching

For the matter of our birth

Remembering when we can

That as this begins

We can endure as

The last cicada sings

Seasons change

Seasons go

Seasons remain

Ever so slow

The last cicada sings

Into the crisp fall air

A final proclamation of

Fall’s end, winter’s era