Poem Written on the Back Porch in Late October

The clarity 

Of the last two

Crickets chirping on

An October evening

Just before the first frost

Can be heard with something

Much less pure than

The mind of winter

Surely the sadness

Is completely imagined

But not so the beauty 

Of the duet which is

Palpable in its vibration

In the way it stirs up
  And still fills up

The melody of 

The night

Nothing is too small not to be wondered about -- that is the name of a fine Mary Oliver poem that my friend Genie had posted to Facebook a short while ago.  And after reading the Oliver poem online I went outside and sat on the back porch in the twilight and was treated to a serenade by the last two crickets of the season.  So very much with Mary Oliverin my mind, it was just us crickets chirping.