~
A garden of plenty,
best seen by light,

sleeps quiet as many
all though the night.

A lonely cicada
makes a great sound,

where none but the one
is around to be found.

A specie of last year,
this year, the blight,

makes this single creature
the sounds made at night.

The garden of plenty
makes no sounds around –

at night! but at light,
it’s loud and profound!

in aesthetic colors,
chorals, renown –

red, white and blues,
and others abound:

a sight in delight,
‘til sunlight goes down.

‘Tis then the cicada,
alone, comes around.

Thus then, a garden
of plenty strange sounds:

One done in colors,
of many a hue;

the other one dolors,
unless it be new.
~