One
glorious day the Magic Ones came
The red-eyed cicadas, Brood X was their name
They crawled from their shells and spread bright orange wings
And flew to the treetops to joyfully sing
A love song to fill all the woods with delight
Sweeter than honey, sparkling bright
As loud as a torrent, an ocean of sound
Transforming the groves to a festival ground .
But the godfearing people
of Brown Town did cry
“Get rid of those bugs with the beady red eyes
Cause they’re creepy & icky and have more legs than we
And if it ain’t people it has no right to be.
O those pesky cicadas had better be gone
Or they’ll ruin our parties on our perfect green lawns
And they’ll fly down our shirts and buzz in our hair
And give all the delicate ladies a scare.”
So
the mayor he called for the crop dusting guys
They dusted the trees and poisoned the sky.
The Magic Ones tumbled and fell to the ground
And their hypnotic chorus could no more be found.
But lo & behold, the
very last one
Received from the Creator a wonderous boon
To speak like a human for one single day
And these are the words this small prophet did say.
“O people of Brown
Town, aren’t you afraid
To face your Creator and be judged for your deeds?
You call yourself moral, but see what you’ve done
To innocent creatures whose harm has been none.
You selfish Man, thinking earth is yours alone
And no other creature should make it their home
And those that don’t please you should have no place here
Not even for one month in 17 years!”
“You love gardens and
flowers, and cute little birds
Complacent suburbanites, have you not heard--
If you want the birds then you must have the worms
The creepys and crawlys, the bugs and the germs
if you want the flowers you must have the shit
and if you love nature--respect ALL of it.”
“A curse upon you who
have murdered our Brood
And silenced our chorus so it cannot be heard
May you never again hear the song of a bird
The grinding of traffic is all that you’ll know
You’ll find none of Nature wherever you go.”
“May your life be as
dull as a plastic green lawn
May you see no more colors of rainbows or dawn
No fireflies, butterflies, blossoms of June
May you live in a mall as dead as the moon.
So take all your poisons and chemical sprays
And live in concrete, for the rest of your days.”
My friend, if the Magic
Ones come to your town
Don’t be a fool. Put your chemicals down!
Walk in their groves and drink up their song
And you’ll walk in beauty all your life long.
July 15 2004
Note: the 17 year cicadas
(genus Magicicada) recently hatched on the East Coast in large numbers
(several billion at least) For one month they sang gloriously in the trees, in
search of mates. Now they have laid their eggs and died... but their offspring will
be back in 2021 to serenade us again.