The sweet last listening
in the final yellow summer light,
with crickets, the same, the same --
the sound surrounding long ago,
so close so many years ago,
when you were awake and wondering…
where will it lead, where will I be…
The rippling trill of years away,
the life ahead, the same trill,
the same night with its soft
and yellow-scented air.
~~~~~~~~~~
Douglas Logan
"Crickets" appeared in 2004 in the Connecticut River Review.
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