Good luck
blown in on cricket wings
up three stories into my lilies,
wilted in the five-day drought --
in at the window, hops
into the cool of my living room
with flurries of dust.
I've been away.
Home, I sweep
the littered pile.
Cricket air-borne,
black head a gleam,
wings shine, thighs pop
out of dimension.
Cricket in the house!
Good luck! Good health
chirps in a hidden seam.
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