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To be cricket

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Wed Oct 26th, 2016

Cricket in my palm

Not uttering sound


Cloud above my head

Shape of slow ship


Chewing stalk of grass

Wind waving maple tree


Sad September flowers

Yellow-jackets browsing


Pond in still trance

You are still far away


Evening comes quiet

Where did that cricket go


Time for his song

Darkness looks long


You my morning song

Memories so strong