New Recruits To The Guardroom Poem by Brian Taylor

On Tuesday after a silence
of three months,
suddenly,
where the jungle
throws evening shadows over the bougainvilleas,
all the cicadas shouted out at once;
stretching and releasing their tymbals
like the shimmering and vibrating
of a thousand silver cymbals.

No notices were posted on the trees.
No announcements in the press.
No sergeant major shouted, "one, two, THREE! "
No ragged more or less.
Nothing in their diaries told them when to come.

They all march together to a single, silent drum.