The prompt today is “stars”…
One evening after ice cream, sitting on a metal folding chair
in a barely air-conditioned hall on a California August night
while heat dulled our evening stars and the mercury
finally slipped to double digits after its triple play at noon,
we listened to the sound of crickets singing in slow motion –
high-pitched mating calls catapulted through time and space
and whatever other ether unnaturally decelerated sound
meanders, and heard a celestial choir whose angel chorus
filled the room, cooled the hall, froze us in our seats,
astonished tears trickling down cheeks silky, stubbled,
weathered, wrinkled or rouged to fall unnoticed
onto hands clasped childlike in wonder.
In that still moment
a lonely star-crossed cricket hopped unwaveringly
over worn floorboards across the room toward the podium
where even yet her seraphim sang longing songs
of unfulfilled desire.
The crowd departed quietly, murmuring like bees
or maybe I turned more insect-like within that interlude
shifting perspective, taught by crickets to believe
that even parted we can always find each other
no matter how far beneath our evening stars we roam.
©2015 Christine Irving