Cricketville

By Linda A. Copp

Cricketville is still all day,
for the crickets haven't much to Say,
Until the moon has risen high,
away above the darkened sky,
And then as moon glow touches ground,
It's then you hear their own sweet sound,
.
As they sing out across the lands,
above the wind, about the sand.

The music of the night soon starts,
falling through the dark 'pon hearts,
Making nightfall their special time,
The time for cricket prose and rhyme.

By Linda A. Copp

©April 14, 1970