Cicadas & Purity

Outside
the cicada lift their seminal skirt of song
Like a soprano choir in C
High pitched, rising and falling - a screaming sea
Assassination of the ears
and mind
It’s a pretty cacophony though
If you let it
Be
Try not to erase or inject it with your own sound cortisone.
But waking in this February beach heat
Is just like Ultra Violet
Opening one’s eye at 7am, is full of rage - yet,
Luckily the sheets are cotton, to breathe
And white
For Purity