Farewell, Cicada

A metallic green live one

Bidding farewell to the brown shell

Of a dead one.

All this on the arm of the wooden chair on the front porch.

Who says animals don’t have feelings?

All sentient beings are but God

And here was one insect

Bidding farewell

To another.

Perhaps grieving

Or just curious—

But there it sat,

Attending the dead,

In silence.

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