Poetry from Lisa Wence Connors

Cicadas’ Hymn

Sun staggers, dragging dusk
The cicadas’ hymn fills the void —
wild against calm, dry air

A song, not of gratitude, joy
but prompt resignation —
short life of devoted suffering

No song of biological Bacchanalia
only droning duty
as buds close for night

They become husks – passed into
genetic afterlife
of dry mud and patient waiting

The cicadas’ persistent hymn —
choking the twilight air
like beads of a bone rosary
rattling in my ear
.

.

Lisa Wence Connors retired from the United States Army and now enjoys life as a libertine and woman about town. She divides her time between Fruita CO, Salt Lake City UT, and the open road. Her work has been published in Gyroscope Review, Bluestem Literary Journal, and Inspired Magazine, among others.

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