at night, stand outside at the edge of the parking lot near the tree-lined fence which the locals use as a tool to pretend you're not there... you'll catch a glimpse of nice, simple homes: aluminum siding, shuttered windows, occasional subtle lights of various muted tones peek between the blinds. find a spot underneath the willow tree where you can easily hear thousands of crickets chatting in perfectly balanced surround sound. face the darkness, and listen... melodic textures swirl in omnidirectional layers... consider a language so completely removed from your frame of reference, singing out amongst us everywhere, everyday, having absolutely no worry if we should ever learn whatever it is they're talking about... compellingly carefree... could be talking about anything up there, really... crickets talkin' cricket stuff, maybe a few chattin' about sports, weather, flight patterns, bird warnings, different things they've seen here & there... almost certainly more than a few are trying to hook up, mother nature is a randy lil' tart after all... they say only male crickets do the talkin', which implies that the only things they hear during sex are the voices of other cricket dudes having sex... yeah, that's gotta be a little awkward when they pass each other on the maple leaf tomorrow... some might be talkin' 'bout gettin' together & doin' somethin' later, like maybe go mess with the crickets on that other tree, try and grab their wimmin for sacrifices to the great bird gods in the sky i mean seriously it's gettin' to the point where we can't even get to work without keepin' at least one compound eye lookin' over yer shoulder, amirite, palpi? gimme cerci, big guy... chirp, tweedle, trill... is it perhaps their continuation of a potentially eons-running ineffable plan - carried on generation upon generation - to eventually get all the pieces lined up for this world to gracefully arrive at its proper place? using this secret, subtle susurrus speaking subliminal messages into our prehistoric minds that may one day form the pattern every living creature deeply desires to understand... shhh.... don't think, just listen.... enjoy interlaced tones rising above others, effortlessly blending into the background chorus as new voices float to the surface... standing here in the dark, listening to this village of crickets casually - eternally - composing an original sonic sculpture among the autumn leaves... to reset, refocus, and renew.

Neil Kull