little cicada.

i found him earlier today.
he must have become caught between the screen and
glass panes of the kitchen window, and died on the sill.
when i was young, i spent hours collecting the delicate brown shells of resident cicadas, discarded ever so carefully on the conifer trees in my backyard. this was the beginning of a fascination, an obsession, even with the bits and pieces that creatures harmlessly leave behind. exoskeletons. feathers. antlers. scales. and finally, bones. i see them not as garbage, but as gifts, for what hope do we have if we can’t see beauty in the smallest parts of our world?

little cicada.
this entire post is entirely for you.