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