Let us now go,you gentle reader,
In an abyss of cricket’s darkness,
Auditory to just your private ears.
Hope you do not fear the screech.
Poet’s words are a cricket’s song.
Just follow them by strike sounds
And you may end up tactile rich.
The lexical import is immaterial
When they strike ears in aplomb.
You may look for gentle lyricism
Just below their sound and flurry
That tingles like morning breeze.