So

One cricket has come near, somewhere near the corner of my back yard. It makes a slow, steady chirp. The sky has no moon to brighten it tonight, but I see the stars once I wait for my eyes to adjust after I leave the house. It is pleasantly cool though the air is still. If only the leaves could rustle without a breeze— but that's the sort of thing I always wish. A sensible person would wish for a breeze to rustle them. Still, as the breeze is not ours to command, the sensible person would be just as disappointed as I am. Perhaps sense is overrated.


( Sunday Verse )