Cicada

                   

        Cicada .... a Time Traveling Poem                                        

                             by Anne Selden Annab 

           

Cicadas - East Coast, Mid-Atlantic

come tunneling out

Brood X -  every 17 years.

The name is as it sounds.

Once when I was a little girl

camping in a pup tent, no tarp,

warm earth where the lawn edge

meets the fence and field beyond.

That summer night, early,

the earth erupted...

It was not fun.

17 years later,

divorced, one child, I was

a single mother working,

living downtown far far away

from the cicadas emerging

and the learned fears of childhood.

Then into my forties, 17 years later,

remarried, safe, respected,

3 almost grown children

and my delight

in hearing the woods hum

as we hike, collecting some

but certainly not all cicada shells-

nymph exoskeletons.

Now into my sixties,

slowing down

out for a country drive

in the passenger seat.

Revisiting childhood haunts.

Here and there, some green trees

with leaves on twig tips brown, flagging,

as the tree fed cicadas prepare

to drop back to earth,

tunnel back down

to feed on roots.

                                                   poem copyright ©2021 Anne Selden Annab

I feed on freedom ... a Time Traveling Poem

                            I feed on freedom ... a Time Traveling Poem

                                        by Anne Selden Annab

 

I feed on freedom-

wind in my hair freedom

birds sing freedom

flowers bloom freedom...

Freedom from ugliness.

Freedom from anouther's rage

(funny how my own rage

feels so innocuous.)

Freedom from violence,

freedom from cruelty,

freedom from hunger

and joblessness.

Freedom from servitude

and slavery and homelessness.

Freedom from starvation

Freedom from selfishness,

I think... I hope ... Oh and the freedom to think,

and hope,

maybe even say what I think freedom.

Freedom to mourn the removal

of exquisite equine statues

and historic generosity...

Noble gestures once respected

and honored like gravestones

and old bones buried long ago.

Technology changes how we move forward,

from formal carved, upright headstones on

a hillside- to the opposite with countless

totally flat memorial plates, like trap doors

in a mowed expanse of grass lawn dotted by

tight bunches of cut flowers marking here

and there... to wilding now with native flowers

and new forests absorbing urns

that are compost for ashes.

Planned stretches of meadows

with birdhouses,

or meditation grooves

with water features... woods with paths,

living parks to mourn and honor our dead

while we the living still have the freedom

to wander and wonder what if...

                                                    poem copyright ©2021 Anne Selden Annab

Selecting ... poem by Anne Selden Annab

Bernard d'Agesci (1757-1828), La justice,
Holds scales in one hand and in the other hand a book with "Dieu, la Loi, et le Roi" on one page and the Golden rule on the other page.

       

          Selecting

Always
things can go either way... we
the people more often than not will
what will be
with our energy
and investments:

So break away from naysayers
and negative nasty connections
for they build delusions
full of wounds
and failure.

Cherish good
seek it out
find it where you are now-
willing better times to come

Be of those who welcome life
negotiated step by step
to be balance
to be walking forward
to be dancing along the way
with whim as goodness wins...

Be of the will that gets things done
Be of the way where the Golden Rule
illuminates

Be of the stars
guiding ships
where bridges can't reach

Be of the will
willing
to shape destiny.

 

                          poem copyright ©2013 Anne Selden Annab

Post Woke

 

                                 Post Woke- A Time Traveling Poem by Anne Selden Annab

 

I look forward to Post-Woke

when true hope has a chance

to climb up and replace

misplaced entertainments

that prance about as News.

A Post-Woke world

where online activists

no longer pedal hate

and scorn for America,

races or religions or

whatever.

A Post-Woke world

where virtue signaling

is not admired.

A Post-Woke world

where "Green"

is less advertising logo

and more an honest effort

to save our earth.

                                                           poem copyright ©2021 Anne Selden Annab