Cicada Season

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The sequential chirping,

of the lonesome curious cicadas

marks the reckoning,

of the coming dusk.

The eerie twilight silence,

when the secretive crimes

lay mist to dust.

The rhythmic hush

when they abandon

their summer skin,

leaving all the sins in their husk.

Sleep now,

in the waking of the coming moon.

Before the cicadas cover the sky

with a deathly rust.

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