March Of The Eldritch Crickets

March Of The Eldritch Crickets


A westerly truck, droning oblivious on toward dusk;
stirring in its passing the countryside does.
For eldritch crickets, ancient, armed with song
do rank and file march to move the evening along
as if to drive the light from the sky
and the captivated grasses are passers-by.
Lonely is the quietude they must unmake;
a trek melodic to undertake.
Their eventide hymn is early till late
moth and the moonlight accentuate.
High above is the vultures' disdain
the owl and wolf in harmonized refrain
where marshmallow meadows lead on to the trees
rolling as if scampering and laughing at ease.
The days' staunch remnants slowly abate
ahead the forest is a chocolate lake.
Firefly rising on the breezes' gentle hand
is a campfire floating where the tall grass stand.
As a sea of mud through the night they flow;
enchantment the victory ever they go...