• “Crickets”
    They chirp in endless pitches,
    Hoping not to fall into those silly ditches,
    Or away from hungry frogs,
    They clutter around the grasses and even a bog,
    In harmony they stand.
    When good comes of it they warn each other.
    Temperatures and anonymity being their strife.
    What more do they fiend?
    For what do them crickets sing?
    Besides something that coincides and rings,
    There is no harm in listening.
    9/7/2013