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Cricket, cricket softly singing
the same two notes time after time
in autumn with the chill it's bringing
an even cadence without rhyme.

I sit here waiting on a deer.
Not even aware I am listening
to the tune I'm lead to hear
while below a stream flows gently glistening.

And it just keeps going on
the sound leading me to almost sleep.
Then suddenly that sound is gone
By a tree frog's baser peep.

I snap awake from where I was
With the bones of a poem in my head
unaware the source or cause
of these words the cricket bred.

Slowly words enter my mind
they join and connect into a rhyme
Leaving thoughts of hunting far behind.
until the sun declares it's leaving time.........

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Might not the shamans have learned how to induce a mental state of mind from nature?
Editing stage: 


Our ears can pick up direction very well but track a cricket! The buggers cab not be found by sound alone. Then you have burnt down the cabin. Then it could be city hikers making the noise just to torment you, or more likely rugarus or wendigos will get you.
Handy hints- carry a flare gun
-don't go in the wods at night.

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

One must not kill a house cricket as it brings bad luck enforced by a wending lol

author comment

I too know the crickets' song. Even late into the night, they sing a trancelike, calming mood and send me off to a dreaming peaceful sleep. It's amazing how millions in the fields and woods can strum their tiny violin legs in concert all in tune. However, just one inside the house can hide for hours and make a louder noise than all the others outside and leave me in wretched wakefulness, until I find it and put it back outside...which is usually never.

I thoroughly enjoyed this poem as it is and would not change a thing.


Thank you for the time to read and leave such kind comment

author comment
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