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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