Scratching the 17-Year Poetic Itch
Earth's sage and song-enamored son;
You suffer not, being flesh-and-blood-less --
A god-like creature, virtually.
Translated by Rory B. Egan, University of Manitoba
Ode to a Cicada
By Lisa Bankert
I saw my first cicada. Yikes!
I swear it was immense!
Its bulging eyes were wide as pies;
Its wings the size of tents.
It wobbled through the thick May air;
I watched it from behind.
It buzzed its wings unsteadily;
© 2004 The Washington Post Company