After a Cricket
Hope holds despair as much as despair holds hope.
Despair has to keep hope out of mind somewhere,
like that fine-tooth strumming I heard over lunch
from what couldn’t have been a cricket. It was
too cold in the fall, too sunny in the day. Hope—
hard hope—doesn’t tune out but listens
through despair for sounds of life.
For the foreseeable century, the climate will gleam on us,
with a fixed gleam that breaks down anywhere at once,
as any expression will if it’s held too long.
Over lunch the next day I heard the same sound.
So I went outdoors and followed the strumming to what,
sure enough, was a cricket, running one forewing
down the other, somewhere in the noonday shade
of the braided wisteria vine in pod. I felt his strumming
deepened the shade he basked in. But I knew
he wasn’t playing for me or only to please himself.
The next day, nothing. So I went out and I listened
to a silence in the shape of a strum.
The strummer, I like to think, hadn’t given out
but met up with an admirer.
His hope would have held. He played
like it would never have occurred to him
to stop before he was done.
John Shoptaw
From a new collection, Near-Earth Object, published by Unbound Edition Press (Atlanta, Georgia)
Classic styles, bold colors, and creative concerts make up the “Imaginary Concerts” line at Peggy Mercury.Provided
Shirts from Peggy Mercury’s first fashion line, “Imaginary Concerts,” hang on display.Provided
