crickets

as the boundary of time passed over me,

that shadow that measures the spin of time,

the day departing in last wishes and farewells

the night arriving in soft solemnity and slumber,

in the changing moments of the in-between,

when the air itself  turns dusky grey,

the earth about me begins to sing,

quite suddenly, to my surprise,

as if venturing from all their hiding places,

from behind each blade of grass,

from beneath each leaf of green,

a million full-voiced choristers,

exploded into raucous rhapsody,

calls and echoes,

in fast and fevered pace,

in frantic search for all the others of their kind,

to become much more than mere specks of life,

to become the one and vast together

to become the shining

of the living, breathing night.

 

 

 

 

 

The End

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