Chattering cicadas
Glorying in their numbers
Overwhelming everything
Til even the most voracious predators
Can't eat another crunchy bite.
Still they come, crashing like buzzing cascades
Over the tired, beaten land.
Their compound eyes looking forward, never back
At the desolation they've left behind.
Secure in their majority, never knowing
That glory is fleeting, and huge numbers divide.
Soon their lifeless husks will fall
Amply fertilizing the next generation
Of what they tried to consume.
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