Chorus of crickets harmonizing as a soft breeze combs the trees,
branches gently swaying . . .
Harvest moon winking at me through filmy clouds in the autumn sky,
a familiar face.
Memories flood back. I close my eyes recalling games of hide ‘n seek
with childhood friends . . .
Running, tripping in the dark through yards, over rocks and bushes
to touch Home Base.
Autumn’s cool breath mixing with summer’s waning warmth beckons me
to stay and listen . . .
But turning a deaf ear I go inside and close the door and miss
the chance to rest.
Tonight I pray Old Man Moon and cricket friends resume their autumn play
for an audience of one . . .
Sitting in my Adirondack chair, head back, absorbing the sights and sounds
of nature’s best.