A
recent Washington
Post story announced that many
states in the Northeast are about to experience a 17-year cicada awakening.
Cicadas, in case you’ve never experienced them, are members of the locust
family, and when they come (in either 13-year or 17-year cycles) you understand
why they were one of the plagues God visited upon Egypt as encouragement to let
the Children of Israel go.
It’s
not just the singing, although there’s something very apocalyptic about their aggregate
sound. It’s their omnipresence in numbers you cannot imagine. Especially
splattering on your windscreen.
(Note
to self: get new wiper blades and check that windscreen fluid is topped up.)
At
any rate, in honor of what we may be about to experience here in the Old
Dominion, let’s have some haiku about cicadas from the master, Basho.
A cicada
shell;
It
sang itself
Utterly
away
In
the cicada’s cry
There’s
no sign that can foretell
How soon
it must die
Stillness—
The cicada’s
cry
Drills
into the rocks
I thought I was pretty familiar with Basho, but I missed these somehow.
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