I.

Mid-october
time for these little fiddlers
to find their winter homes
though sadly
hearths are fewer now
farther between and
houses harder to enter
uninvited

At dusk the quiet hum
of freeway traffic
in the distance
closer to hand
the insect choir
high pitched
continuous music

Not a playful sound
lacking the range of notes
the exuberance
of warblers, titmice, chickadees
but if those insect voices
should fade from the countryside
the silence will be
a hole we've made in heaven

II.

In Kansas City
years ago
I bought a book of
Chinese paintings
mountains and streams
the usual subjects
done in black ink
beautifully reproduced
a serious collection

But one stands out for its
sense of whimsy
an autumn scene
cutaway of a house
a gentleman in bed asleep
while up the front stairs
and under the bed
crickets the size of
cats or rabbits
but otherwise realistic
to the last detail

Easy to grasp
the artist's humerous intent
the crickets' outsized presence
once their voices emanate
high and shrill under bed
and between walls

Still there's a subtle difference
one can sense
along with all the whimsy
something that sets this painter's
art apart from say a Durrer print

It has, I think, to do with seeing
from within
not looking from outside
the world of living things
seeing with a deep sense of kinship
familial affection

Our European folktales
Russian fairy tales
the Brothers Grimm
often seem to counsel
such an attitude toward
animals including ants
and fish and birds
when treated with respect and care
listened to, their advice heeded
become allies in the human quest

Song for the crickets O crickets
lost in the tall grass
on this moonlit night
where are your silver homes?
where are your golden homes?
Yosano Akiko/Steve Berman
Now it's mid-October
nights are getting colder
time for you small fiddlers
to find your winter homes

I would ask you in
to share our country place
but we've up and moved to town
so now you're on your own

If our new house had a hearth
or even a woodstove
we would gladly welcome you
my wife and I both

But there is a pile of leaves
and brush out in the pasture
you could dig down under that
and wait for warmer weather

There's no time to waste though
December's just around the bend
maybe at our neighbor's house
you will find a place to spend
the winter snug and cozy
singing in the woodpile
when the chilly months are past
we can meet again