Like a cicada who has waited over a decade to feel the earth against his claws.

Batting his wings a single time when his shell comes free.

That was me.

I saw this angel staring back from storefront glass.

I saw the silhouette of someone strong.

Strong headed, strong hearted, antennae, spiracles, and a glassy pair of stained wings.

That summer sound you hear.

I’m in the trees when you’re quiet.

Set like amber against the wood in the glimmering sun.