Marking Time with a Cricket

by Vernie Lynn DeMille


It’s a quiet night here in my space;

 children and husband asleep,

a dog curled up by my feet.

Then a lone cricket starts playing his tune into the dark silence.

It makes me feel wonderfully small

and inconsequential

to mark time with a cricket,

as if the things that worry me can be put to rest.

As if the frustrations, regrets, demands

and fears are simply a song,

sung in the night,

in one tiny corner of the world,

with lyrics saying “I’m still here.”

I’m still here.


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