Román Ortega-Cowan

The cricket’s jump






A light brown cricket at play on green grass
He seemed like a morsel to birds on tall tree
A little brown morsel well served on the grass
To birds on the tree, they just could not pass.

With bees flying round’ in the gentle breeze
A hungry black crow descends from the tree
So close to the cricket he lands on the grass
That frantic heartbeats from the cricket flee

Now facing each other on the lush green grass
Squirrels looked on, tree leaves dropped as well
A jump could have saved brown cricket at play
Skip all the drama … Just food for black bird.

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