Crickets

I pass the roses daily.
In middle summer I wait for soft white blooms,
And the aria of the crickets hiding in their leaves.

Through hot summer nights
Their melody refreshes.
Through early dark of autumn evenings
Their sweet notes linger.

Sing to me now crickets in fall.
Sing to me your fading refrain.
Sing to me of nature's harmony.
I am listening.

In cold stillness of winter
I pass the vacant stems.
The symphony is silent.
Empty air surrounds me now.

In middle summer when the roses bloom,
I will listen with a smile
To the Sonata as it begins
Through the cricket season.
Before winter's silence fills my ears again.