The Cricket’s Tricks
I trod through thickets, thick with dew,
Tracking a cricket that chirred and flew,
“Catch my cadence, chase my cheer,”
She chimed in a twirl I could hardly hear.
Through muddled marsh and miry ground,
I marched by her mischievous merry sound,
Like a goose gone giddy, lost and loose,
I slipped in the slush of whispering spruce.
From shadowed shrubs she showered sneers,
Tickled my tumbles, taunted my tears,
This pint-sized prankster, bright and brisk,
Turned every step to a daring risk.
So small in shape, yet sly in scheme,
She tripped the thoughts of the sharpest dream,
For wit can wander where strength grows slow—
And tiny tricks steal the grandest show.
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