This cricket has now opened its window,
In my ears, to darkness on the other side.
It is cricket that opens sounds to our ears
And is the sole window to night’s sound.
Its creak imparts motion to a dark sound
As happens in the leaves about flamingo
That wakes up 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 light sound of the morning crow.