Goodbye Songs


Walking in the woods as the sun sinks behind the horizon, I stop and listen. It's late October, and the crickets are singing their goodbye songs. I stand on the path absorbing the call and response, the variations of pitch created by rubbing back legs together. The music is so hopeful yet so sad. Once we've had a hard frost, the crickets will disappear. The evening woods will be silent, punctuated only by the tapping of the piliated woodpeckers and the occasional barking of crows.