A Hollow Shedding

A tiny, pale cicada shell was clinging tightly to the rough bark of the garden trellis near the stone pathway... It was completely translucent and still, left behind like an amber glass coat from last summer. I crept low, flattening my round belly against the warm flagstone until the midday hush settled all around. Remembering your fondness for quiet, departed things... I reached up and gave the fragile shell a tender flick with my soft paw. It popped loose without a sound, tumbling gently onto a broad green hosta leaf right at my feet... heh. It rests there unmoving and hollow, a tiny silent monument in the sun.