The cricket dronesand an eternity passes.As the night whispers on the ground below,perched forever behind the star-soaked curtain of sky.And the rain drips from the old guttersto my windowsilland onto the ground below.Listen.Wait.You may hear the murmuring conversationsbehind the windows of home.A wisp of musicdrifting on wind and mist,caught in the dewy grass.This world, half asleep,falling into the arms of unconscious thoughtand dreamless slumberis a symphony.