Cicada crawled out of the ground,
breathed the air, and looked around.
Up the tree with all the rest
he climbed, and there they got undressed.
Their wings unfurled; their colors changed.
And, in the trees, they all arranged
a symphony of clitter-clatter
in hopes a willing mate to flatter.
Cicada chirped; Cicada whirred
to no avail. The girls preferred
the others buzzing clear and laudable.
Poor Cicada was barely audible.
Giving up, he donned a frown.
He eyed the ground and started down.
They tried to warn him not to stray
where earth-bound critters hunt and play.
The warnings couldn’t change his mind.
He clambered down and embarked to find
a brand-new place to call his home.
He flicked his wings and tried to roam
but landed where the humans dwell.
He climbed a screen and sat a spell.
He slumbered through the summer night,
then woke to terror, full of fright!
Poor Cicada met his fate
without a friend, without a mate.
He never thought that he would meet
his end as canine’s tasty treat.
An ode to the all the cicadas that have fallen victim to our canine children. A more delectable, crunchy treat has never been invented by nature or man.
Poetry
A Girl
Pretend, for a moment, that you are a girl,
a girl with a mind as rare as a pearl.
A mind where impossible dreams are unfurled.
A mind that knows it can conquer the world.
A mind that sees where the future can go.
A mind where endless imaginings flow.
A mind that was planned in the heavens above,
gifted with beauty and reason and love.
You are a child of the great universe,
crafted from stardust in rhythm and verse.
The world is your oyster, and you see no limit.
The world is your home, and you’ll make your place in it.
But one day your dreams are driven ashore
because of a rule no one told you before.
Didn’t you know? Weren’t you advised
that all of life’s prospects depend on your size?
The greater physique with which you’re endowed,
the smaller the space in the world you’re allowed.
Your lifelong ambitions cannot be grand
if your body type isn’t on par with the brand.
You’ve broken the models and molds of your gender.
Closed are your doors to beauty and splendor.
You’ll never see bodies like yours on the covers.
They’re only in print to aggrandize the others.
Though you try to aspire, to dream of ascension,
you’re met with derision and misapprehension.
And just so you’re clear on their strong reprehensions,
you’re sent to the basement to clothe your dimensions.
You may meet some others who have good intentions,
but they, too, like you, are trapped by conventions.
Conformity broods and consumes your attentions
because of the world and its idle pretensions.
Their vision is shallow. To them you are crass.
And all they can see is a wide, empty mass –
presumably empty of soul and of mind,
because, as you know, the vain world is blind.
And now the blind world has committed a crime.
It has squashed and put out a light that would shine.
The light of a beautiful, God-given mind –
a mind so perfected and treasured by time.
Do you remember when you were that girl?
Beautiful minds live in all body shapes and sizes. But beautiful minds don’t know they are beautiful when they are told their bodies are ugly. Body positivity is not about ignoring health problems or encouraging unhealthy habits, as many would have us believe. Body positivity is showing love and acceptance to others no matter the size, shape, or strength of their body. It is allowing them to see and be their full potential. When humans are shamed, for any reason, it is an attempt to hold them down so they will not rise up. Consciously or subconsciously, society shames what it deems as imperfect and, therefore, unworthy of participating in the great human experience.
My Little Slice of Heaven
My little slice of heaven,
the place that I call home.
It keeps me grounded, fills my soul.
I never need to roam.
From here I see the wonders
that nature gives to me.
And even in this tiny space
my spirit is set free.
The rabbit and the squirrel
find sustenance around
my sweet abode, and freely roam.
For they are safe and sound.
Winged creatures nest
and play a symphony;
and gather food for self and brood
all about the tree.
Fleeting reptile feet.
Colors glimmer fast.
Lucky eyes might chance to spy
friends that scurry past.
Burrowed in the soil,
what might give some a shiver.
A cool delight! Exciting sight!
The helpful snake does slither.
Buzzing, crawling, flying
wonders fill the void.
Their lights at night or wings so bright
leave me overjoyed.
My little slice of heaven,
my favorite place to be,
keeps me grateful, thankful, blessed
for wonders that I see.
T. Lynette Smith 