The crickets abandoned the yard
not long after you.
The evenings are too quiet now—
no big, dumb you exploring every
bush and branch,
snapping and snuffling
through the thicket,
coming home
with dirt on your nose
and covered in burrs,
goofy faced.
Just grass
and a sleeping garden.
The squirrels fear nothing.
Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 5:07 PM UTC
The crickets abandoned the yard
not long after you.
The evenings are too quiet now—
no big, dumb you exploring every
bush and branch,
snapping and snuffling
through the thicket,
coming home
with dirt on your nose
and covered in burrs,
goofy faced.
Just grass
and a sleeping garden.
The squirrels fear nothing.
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