The Lone Cricket lives under the rhododendron
just to the right of the locust trees.
You may not see him
but you can hear him for He is the herald of summer heat.

Unashamedly lighting up the night with his sonic orchestra of wing chirps,
Where would we be without his song?

Would we ever have Fall or WInter?
Would we know how the seasons move along?

Does Mr. Cricket come alone or does he bring his friends
the tree frog and the bee?
Does he bring the dew of morning? 
I suspect so.. for you see he is the light of the midnight ecstasy,
The sonic giver of plectrum tales
and the scent of the magical honey blossom trees