Sing Crickets!
Play your bucolic symphony to the night
Play your dark-fall music to the stars
Raise your cacophony toward their dim light
Sing to the misty moon and even Mars
Sing Crickets!
Play a lively tune as if to say
You have forever to live and chirp till dawn
That summer isn’t soon to fade away
And winter comes as hard and cold as stone
Sing Crickets!
Make your song fill up the cool dark air
Stopping only when you see a movement pass
Far from view you think you have no care
Hiding in the green and dew-damp grass.
Sing Crickets!
Sing as the whippoorwills fall quiet.
And the last few lightning bugs go quietly dim
Sing into a deeper, longer night
Your slowly fading last-uplifted hymn
Sing Cricket!
I hear you as you make your final song
And, as solo, in a hidden place you play
Taps, to the summer nights all dead and gone
You face alone the chilly autumn days.
You sing a song of hope for future Spring
And to that final song you sleep and cling.
