by Vanessa K. Eccles
In the night of the South,
There is a song that is played.
That is made with wings, not with mouth,
And with passing hours doesn’t fade.
Every day at dark,
Their music begins to play.
It’s the night’s lovely mark,
That reminds me of home when I’m away.
A never-ending song of summer
From these tiny creatures of God.
They sing a beautiful little number,
While they’re nestled in the sod.
Often times I love to sit,
And listen to the nature’s track.
In a world that somehow I fit,
Although, often I lack.
In this world of God’s own hand,
He left us a piece of Heaven above.
Nature’s own perfect band,
That reminds us of His love.
When peace escapes you
And city life becomes long,
Return home to the place you knew,
And listen for the cricket’s song.
Vanessa K. Eccles is currently an English major at Troy University in Dothan, Alabama, as well as a former intern at Deep South. She completed her first novel last year and is working on her second.