The Bringer of Music

What's that trill, in shadows still?
It sings from secret little nook,
in blades of grass, near window glass,
near the foundation. Oh, hear! Look!

Tiny black fellow traveler, sing;
ears, all curious, take it in.
Oh, creature small, pure tones you bring,
vague remembrance of angel's violin.

Young eyes, to investigate,
lean in and take in, nose to nose,
so near, antennae almost graze,
the speechless wonder, leaning close.

The legs, amazing legs, apply;
leg on leg, produce the trill,
a miracle before the eye,
so ready to with wonder fill.

No ear to share discovery,
but father God looked on with glee,
that in the shadows, mystery,
opened to bring a song to be.

Little cricket , opening doors,
to a world of tones and harmony,
the angel's violin of yore,
symphonies of heaven and earth foresee.