The cricket has just opened its window,
In my ears, to darkness on the other side.
Crickets open their sounds to our ears
And are sole windows to night sounds.
Their song imparts motion to dark sound
As happens in the leaves around a bird
That wakes up at midnight to flutter wings
And gets back to its old Siberian dreams.
Darkness is sound from a cricket’s throat
And vanishes as its throat is vanquished
By the soft light sound of the morning crow.