A gilded age

The giant cicada makes a sound

my neighbor thought was a whistle

or a strange faceless bird

we imagined a long white beak

and thick black feathers

but it was the hidden molten cicada

and he is quite verbal

pursing a haunting music

as my cat refuses to eat his food again

unsure, is it his teeth? Or his desire

to slow down and curl up

once and for all?

I don’t guess their motivation

why the cicada sings

why I find the sound mournful

echoing my own inner feelings

as if I were writing out on clouds

exactly what was inside me

why the cat persists in refusing

my best efforts to keep him alive

whether it is right to let something you love

die even as

you think you can keep it

if the right time ever

exists to say goodbye

and why I don’t tend the greenhouse more often

as I put so much effort into

growing the little seedlings

do I prefer the solidity of well lived things

over youth?

thinking back to my own empty glass

and sallow bedsheets and

neglectful lovers

the wan asp of being twenty

like heirogliphs on walls

staring for eternity

not ageing, nor real

a gilded age

passing to creped hands in sunlight

and furrows from thinking too much

whether this skirt is a little tight

these shoes too high

the longing to be running barefoot

through high grass again, mindless

of any consideration

nothing around my neck

but wilted perfumed summer flowers

not the strain of trying to make

a life out of dry earth

with tears of disappointment

when all around seem so

tucked into their gentle cycles

and you are rogue

wanting to be among the branches

with the murmured cicada

listen to the call

much like the imploring whistle of a train

as it would steam slowly into town

every night at midnight

you would reach for me

and nothing else would hurt


13 thoughts on “A gilded age

  1. This made me think how magical nature can be. How it’s sights, sounds & aromas have the power to lull us deep onto thought, or pull us out of ourselves gaining new perspective. Plus cicada’s produce a sound that sounds like a cross between a buzz & hum that I always found seductive. Love this one too. ღ

  2. Great read! My thoughts: better to have lived well than to have lived long . . .

  3. Haunting Music was by the male Cicada calling a mate over to join him. the Female flutters her wings to let him know she is interested…he comes closers each time he hears her flutter her wings at his song…in turn the Male cicada song gets and softer the closer and closer he gets to her…until finally they meet…. 🙂

    My cat I had of 20yrs died this April…her name was Bailey, named after the Irish Liqueur, Bailey Irish Cream… as she was a Siamese and the soft Creamy color tone to her fur matched perfectly with that drink I liked 🙂 She was a beautiful half-blind cat and vocal when wanting attention… her last few months were hard on her with being incontinent at times and throwing up and losing weight… she slept more than usual…ate less.. but she still always liked attention…that comfort…. so give your comfort ( of course make sure to visit a Vet if you can or is need) but when the time is right you will know it….

    Youth and the memories of it should NEVER be forgotten…. but more importantly don’t forget you in the Present….the mind is not a linear object…it jumps…it remembers things whether you want to to or not…
    which is fine….but LIVE the now …don’t live in your youth… don’t live in regrets or tainted things…remember them …honor them…learn from them..take the best from them and dance in it…whether in your house to a radio playing or in a club…makes no difference ..whether or alone or with someone… dance to the youth in you….for its always there.. if you let it in.

    Sometimes a calming self hug is the best reaching suture to the soul… I have been in that dark place so I know…

    You are never alone sis….

    Love ya.

Comments are closed.