Crickets
- 8 hours ago
- 1 min read
by Candi Bartlett | 08/03/2026
Thank goodness the crickets are so loud.
They hold her thoughts -
The racing,
Overlapping,
Constant
Streams
Of
Consciousness -
Like the hand
Of a protector.
An anchor in the summer -
The hot, maddening
Summer -
To reality.
To the outside
World,
Not the worlds in her head,
Always running.
Always operating.
Always generating.
When the air strangles
She fears she
Will simply burst apart.
Vibrating into just the bits,
No longer a whole,
If not for the crickets.
Her anchor in the heat,
Her reality in the
Absurd summer.
Thank goodness the crickets are so loud.
~
Comments