Day #423/02/2014 20:23
The crickets sing their nightly song, singing the tune of the sleep of the sun. The moon is rising, always rising, though behind a blanket of cloud does the moon hide tonight. The birds sing of the beauty of the day, but it is the crickets that come out to play at night, dominating the world of song. They sing of their love for dusk, for dark, and mourn as the night becomes the sun. But the night is only beginning, and the crickets have more song, so they will continue to sing, until the blinding morning rays burn away the shadows of the night.