Crickets

We look to the greatness within us
And we scorn it as it taunts with happiness
Like a child with a new toy on a special day
We forget the moment and get lost
In depth too much and forgetting how Godly
We truly are, to craft and be precise
Every time too, and the circles
Only extend to more acceptance
More permanence and understanding
Like the water from a pipe in a run down street
The flow does not cease until one recognizes
Even that too is trying to sustain
A cricket chirps not to hear itself
But to call to others.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.