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.
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