Crickets sing

a tidal song —

legion notes united,

lapping one

against another.

Too close,

too rapid to measure

the hairsbreadth space

between,

to take the night’s

aural temperature.

But it is cool for August.

Pull the blankets up.

Listen –

The crickets’ evensong

washes

against thin-paned glass,

and bears

the swollen Moon

through

Her arching

transit.

— C.Birde, 8/17