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