Who Hears Crickets in the Garden?

Aug. 11, 2016, morning journal notes. Sitting under grape vines in the arbor. Already summer flirts with autumn, courting with cooler mornings, boldly coiffed clouds, sweet showers, and the strong perfume of scented breezes.

Last evening, the crickets; how do they play those scratchy violins all night long? I wonder, did their mates enjoy their love songs?

And if I had not been outside last night, to hear them in the dark of a summer evening, would the cricket songs have serenaded the night? The crescent butter moon shine above the pine tree? I believe so — their existence, crickets and moon and more, their sight and sound, do not depend on me to hear or see them. That is the beauty and flow of nature, this hymn of the universe. The hymn I passionately adore, revere, and love. Adore because every creature in nature is a warrior, one who is not afraid to live true to oneself, yet not arrogantly narcissistic nor selfish. I revere them because in their essence they teach us a lesson of interdependence and detachment; if so self-conscious would the cricket dare sing such a raspy song? The moon show off? And love, as I hold an affection for their beauty, simplicity, and consistency of their natural world.

In the arbor and under these vines I see how rogue and self asserted the vines with canes stretch out new growth wherever they find purchase; those thread-thin green tendrils, as if they have eyes in their ends, seek out and lasso, then curl around any wire or plant or thing, to clasp to tightly in green curls, thus giving the cane a strength and hand hold to grow forward.

I know I should organize and control the growth pattern of the new wild canes but a caring search within finds me listening to a chirping voice that tells me to let the canes grow where they want and be wild in their own song. Amen. Chirp on crickets, I’ll be listening for you tonight.

Advertisements

About Ciletti

Jim Ciletti, an award winning poet, filmmaker, and author, is the 2010-2012, Poet Laureate of the Pikes Peak region, and for 41 years, poet-in-residence for the Orme School Fine Arts Festival. Jim gives many workshops on the writing and performance of poetry, and makes poetry house calls to create personal poetry events. Ciletti loves everything Italian, including cooking for family and friends, and loves to plant garlic, make homemade wine, and eating peaches and plums. "Everyday is Christmas, but you don't always get everything you ask for. Sometimes more. Poetry celebrates life."
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Who Hears Crickets in the Garden?

  1. Helen Hudson says:

    Ah….sweet, sweet summer…..and yes, the crickets love those love songs….and they will play them long after we are gone….and that is fine and good and as it should be. As for the creeping tendrils…I have planted two, wild vines up the side of the house that have now grown across the windows upstairs. My husband says, ‘They must be moved off!’..Nope….I shall let them grow wild and wicked and wherever they so please. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s