Crickets and Other Presences
Taking out the garbage I pauseSkip to next paragraph
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to listen to some late crickets,
two in particular, one fast and loud,
the other soft and contemplative,
both keeping time with their different selves.
The night air is cool. A car rushes
down the road, hitting the manhole
with the usual crump.
Neighbors are conversing across the way,
murmuring and laughing.
The moon is swelling toward full.
A distant plane flies in front of it,
its lights winking, as though aware
of some cosmic delight in all
that is going on.