JunePoWriMo 12

In the late afternoon 
as the sun makes its first appearance
burning off the humidity
that slept us through the day
you sit in the yard
with a book of Virginia poems
coming to terms with history
and use a piece of paper
to set right a stranded cicada
screaming for lack of anything body
having spent most of its before life
trawling through the darkness
suddenly witnessing with senses
too new but for bewilderment
the shock of the sun
then becoming earth again