I babble the last of my being
into the first light of the new day,
lay, lacking an audience and
desiring none. I am the one
who walks from that piece of earth
to this, under the empty skylight,
accompanied only by the rising
pre-dawn birdsong and the
fading symphony of crickets.
—————[|||]—————
igwrt
———[|]———
Scrambled, Not Fried 
I love the sound created by the alliteration in the first line, which sets up the pre-dawn birdsong and the / fading symphony of crickets in the final lines.
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yep, and the internal rhymes, not enough to be annoying, but they move the poem along nicely.
Love this poem esp those last three lines
To me this takes me back to my youth when I could still hear the cricket and when I walked home from parties in the pre-dawn light… wonderful
I am the one
who walks from that piece of earth
to this, under the empty skylight…
To me, this is the perfect portrayal of everyman.
This is very beautiful. Loved it!
The one night stand of the June Bug?
Whatever bug, it’s a good thing for them that they don’t keep track of time and that they don’t know better.
A fun ditty, Ron.
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