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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