The Cricket's Lullaby

Now sways the gentle wheat fields,
their fingertips tickle the belly of the orange horizon.
The sun sinks lower with each and every breath,
as the crisp twilight air settles in for the night.

Now I rock back and forth in my chair,
its arms rested and worn with age.
The sun’s light blinks for the last time today,
taking with it my heavy sorrow and worry.

Now an owl hoots in the distance,
the echo follows the breeze through the tree branches.
The crickets chirp their sweet song,
singing the land to sleep with their lullaby.