Poet's notes:
When I was a child my sister and I used to catch cicadas and put them on the inside window screens of our house and then watch them molt their skins. We did not have TV at that time. The wings would unfold and dry and in the morning we would catch each adult cicada in our hand where it would buzz helplessly just before we released it to the sky. This is one of my favorite memories of my childhood. For another poem on a related subject, check out 'PH: Oklahoma: Killing Cicada Killers...
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