I love poems like this one. Not only is it a wonderful observation of the dynamic processes of the natural world, but a loving observation of the lifecycle of the easily neglected insect world.
The poet makes wonderful use of the onomatopoeic potential of the language to convey verbally that prickly sensation of the cicada shell that as children we delight to find on trees and fences and the sides of the house throughout the summer. And the repetition of the first two lines cleverly suggests that "same but different" insect passing through the moulting process. Brilliant.
But of course in addition to this fine observation and clever wordplay, Kate MacQueen takes the reader to another level; by drawing our attention to "work" and "home" in this way, the poet has connected us to these apparently alien insect processes of nature, and challenges us to recognize the unity of nature, and everything we share with other species.