Against the threat or thrill of frost
The crickets trill their last songs
They carry on
Through the hours of night, stretching their limits, that they may for one more day witness the dawn.
This is important- they sing. They sing until death freezes them back into the slow earth. They sing as if it is no thing that their time is brief.
They sing because all there is to do is sing- for the rain, for their nourishment, for the sheer glory of sound and vibration.
They may even sing their sadnesses, but they do not waste time in silence, worrying about what might be.