His screams caress the night, every night,
Only interrupted by a sharp, yet dull, roar,
He waits patiently until the ground settles down,
When the trembles cease, his call tears through once more,

A soft, gentle creature, he lies still on a leaf,
Watching the world go by with a light in his eye,
He narrates for our pleasure, but we never thank him,
We are selfish and our minds only twirl over our own lives,

Tonight, before you sleep, give him a smile,
Make him feel known, reward his soul's trials,
Give your thanks to true nature, the world outside of your life,
Give your thanks to the cricket, who does cherish your nights.