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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required *Cicada Dreaming was told to Roland Robinson in 1965 by Julia Charles of the Yoocum Yoocum clans from the area around Wollumbin in the headwaters of the Tweed River, Northern NSW, Australia, and is used with permission. The Cicada Dreamtime Bootheram (lore) involves disrespectful children who turn into cicadas underground, drinking the tree milk (sap) for seven years, until emerging and crying for their parents. It came from an online reference written by S.Starlore, (2018), Cicada Dreaming, which is no longer online. While commonly known to the people whose lore it is, it is probably new to most of us. I wrote this in 2021 when I was missing the noise of summer. It now has a few edits and additions. Tiny Dreamtime children, imprisoned in the earth, pierce the little tree roots to sip sap beneath the dirt. For seven years, cicada grubs, as they scratch and dig, keep getting so much bigger, keep popping off their skin. One final time, they’re out - up a fence, up a trunk, up a shed. I collect the shells they've left, when their lead-light wings have spread "Buzz buzz buzz," they brush past my nose. All-day the raucous chorus is a non-stop drone. Above my ringing ears on twigs and sticks and leaves a thousand bodies cling and rain their yellow wee on me. Every year they deafen us. The noise is really bad - crying for their mothers, screaming for their dads. But, this year there are - none. I’m surprised that I feel sad. Where have the mad things gone? Yellow Mondays, Green Grocers, Black Princes, Cherry Noses Much as they annoy me, I hope that they’ll be back. Without the story's children, so noisy, rude, and fun, the hush of their absence says that summer hasn't come.
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