One day across the lake where echoes come now

where sometimes loud over the hill

the moon, wild again,

looks for animals to roam,

still, out of the hills, anytime.

But somewhere a cricket waits.

It listens now, and practices at night.

Where sometimes,the terrifying moon swoops over the hill,

searching for another animal,

to drain the sound again.

But somewhere a cricket is waiting

and listening

and practices, "Cricket!" at night.

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