If you head due north or due south
You won’t go east or west;
If you talk only with your mouth
Your hands and eyes will rest
In silence. If a baseball bat
Is your idea of sport
All you will play with is just that.
What will you do when caught?
If only God is God then He
Or She or maybe It
Is stuck with an eternity
That won’t let poor God quit.
Forget your God, your south, your north,
Your bat, your hands, your eyes
For none of all these things is worth
Anything if life dries
Out, shrinking, gathered in one spot.
Thus the cicada steps
From its shell, breathing in the hot
Summer air from tree tops.
Current edit: 9 June 2015, reworked from ‘Quixotic Song’. Looks good for now.