Photo: sierraclub.com
the cricket’s song is surely a prayer
the drought-deprived truckee
slows to a trickle,
slogs along toward city center.
gladiolas begin to droop,
daisy’s wilt.
on the vine, clusters of grapes
blush.
we sit in the dark in silence.
count stars and sip chilled pinot gris.
the quiet fills with cricket cries,
an urgency to mate
before the chill of a first freeze—
a prayer for continuance.
Toni, for dVerse Poetics, is asking us to share those lazy, hazy days of summer known as the Dog Days. She gives us a good overview of what exactly this means in astronomical terms. Stop by to read her informative post and drop off a poem of your own. The pub doors open at 3:00 EDT on Tuesday.
The title of this poem is borrowed from Mary Oliver’s poem, “The Cricket and the Rose.” She seems to be my major go-to for inspiration these days. If you get stuck, I suggest scanning the work of a favorite author/poet, looking for a line to jump-start your own poem.
Beautiful picture of that perpetual longing.
LikeLike
Oh the coolness of the evening… when rivers go dry it is hot for sure.. I just came from the mountains up north, where we had 5 degrees and rain.. so there are no dog days here.
LikeLike
Lovely. I like the ending very much…the cycle that continues as seasons change.
LikeLike
The line you chose as a title is exquisite and a great way to invite us into your poem. When I am stuck I like to look at book titles and this sometimes spur my imagination. I enjoyed the serenity of your lines and would be happy to sip that pinot gris with you any time.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes.. what greater prayer of Art
can tHere be than to
create and reproduce
LIfe as NOW for
ART in all
expressions
of Nature
comes
in and goes
out wITh..
wHere Prayers
of Connections
Rule in A
Cricket
Song
of Life..:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was relaxing. Perhaps the prayer wasn’t heard as I never hear crickets in my area! Thanks for the read
LikeLiked by 1 person
The will to survive perhaps make them create louder and melodier sounds! Wonderful lines Victoria!
Hank
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the dark silence, filled with sounds of creatures ever moving on with life ~ I also love the title, Victoria ~
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like the ambience of crickets singing…except for “soloist” in my basement 🙂 Trusting the prayers will be answered.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Where I grew up, that crickets song was so common and it was kind of scary – and now that I read your piece, it gives a whole new meaning. Beautifully done as usual, Victoria. …
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like all of this poem but I do like that little cricket – in spite of all, continuing life. Peaceful this is. I can’t think of the Japanese name for it, but they have a tiny cricket they call the “little priest” because its sound is like the tinkling of bells often worn which chime as they walk. I thought of that first thing with the title of this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The Truckee is actually (supposed to be) a large river that flows from Tahoe in the Sierra down through Reno. Because of the drought, it is so reduced in size…it has flooded twice since we moved here in 1993. We are only a block from the river but on higher ground. It caused a lot of damage in Reno in 1997. It also flows to the West, feeding No. California. Important source of water for us.
LikeLiked by 2 people
hmmm… chilled pinot gris sounds wonderful on a hot summer eve… it’s very dry here as well… hot, humid… just we don’t have fireflies unfortunately
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely, V. Oh to sit and listen to the sounds of nature. Just went to ocean and filled myself with the thunder of the waves and screechy song of the gulls. But I do miss the quiet melody of night descending around me while surround by nature, not houses.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Drought, wildfires following flash floods–hell of a summer across the
West. We had a smidgin of rain a week ago, but broke all records for days over 90 degrees here in western WA state. Bull frogs & crickets both lull me to slumber.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Viv caught the plural daisies first, but I’ve been to the Truckee River. When I first moved to the Midwest in August of 1991, I’d hear an odd sound every time I stopped at a stop sign. I thought there was something wrong with my car. Finally dawned on me that it was crickets. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hear that cricket, Victoria, hoping for continuance…. I think all creatures have their way of praying; and if we listen carefully in the silence we can almost hear them!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like the atmosphere you have created here, the relaxed feeling.
What is a truckee? By inference, maybe it’s a small stream?
Daisies – line 5.
love,
ViV
LikeLiked by 1 person
Check comments, Viv. I replied about the Truckee, but in the wrong place!
LikeLike