The Day The Cricket Died

He was on his back

When I found him,

Kicking his legs in the air.

I put him right.

He jumped off the porch,

Out of the shade,

Into the midday sun,

And started to

Bake.

He limped along

For an inch or so,

Gave a flutter

Of his wings,

And flipped over

Again.

Losing the will to live, he

Twitched

Once,

Twice,

And then was still.

A minute passed

Before I thought I saw

A small movement.

But it was only

The wind

Nudging him,

Encouraging him,

As I had done,

To try again.

But he was gone.

His empty shell

Donated to the earth.

I knew him briefly,

That cricket.

He was on his back

When I found him,

Kicking his legs in the air.

(Silver Lake, September 2008)