Crickets
One on its own cannot send a message far,
but together they create what we know
as summer in a humid night.
Their species laboring during the night-shift
to drown out all other noises
and send their message to the universe.
Their noise so visceral that we could reach out
and touch the body of their hard work,
a creation that shrouds the earth like a veil.
This is their yearning to live, to be seen, be heard.
A call to the unknown, an exclamation of existence,
do they hope they will receive a message assuring they exist?
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