Outside the anthill

. . .

Our legs were numb,
But the cold is gone,
Enjoying again the walks,
We're taking back our galleries,

Everyday the same path,
As always similar places,
The duplicate gray shades,
A new start begins but...

It looks like a déjà vu.
We laughed at this Cicada,
However what for,
We neither can't see the light.