The Order of Things
by Michael Escoubas

Among my favorite things
to do come autumn
is to walk in the meadow
deep into the night
among a cluster of ancient oaks
when the moon is high
and the stars out
bragging about their light.

I listen to night music …
crickets and locusts babbling
each one the uniqueness
of their sounds. I hear the snap
of dried twigs and brittle leaves
crackling beneath my feet
and the crunch of fallen acorns.

Sounds crescendo like hymns
buzzing in my ears
harmony made real
by a composer
hidden in the night
but no less present
as I partake of the evening
and the sounds surrounding me
under the oak trees.