Thunder moon song

Imagine thunder, a year’s worth of it,
Crammed into a high speed second

Of replay: that’s a cricket.
Imagine a summer lawn full of them,

each chirp a year, an entire night
Of it, just below the grass line while

Above it every firefly’s a conflagration
Over territory, driving extinctions

And drawing death from the sky
Like lightning. Imagine standing

In your yard above it all. Oddly at peace.
Away from the lights of your house.

A few minutes go by. That’s the moon.