Late Night Haiku XLV

By Timothy R Butler | Posted at 4:45 AM

CXXVIII. Crickets chirp softly.
The warm summer air flows 'bout
Their mournful old tune.

CXXIX. What is their secret?
E'ery summer, they chirp anew,
The old melody.

CXXX. Tell me now what is —
I only wish to understand —
What lingers. Again.


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