1. We’ll probably get the first frost here tonight (the mountains already have snow). I feel bad for the plants and the crickets, even though it’s how things go for plants and crickets.
The voice of the last cricket
across the first frost
is one kind of good-by.
It is so thin a splinter of singing.
2. In less-sad news, it’s been a week for ridiculous parodies: My friend invented a song about French toast to the tune of “Roxanne,” so I invented a song about the peach hand pies she made to the tune of “Tiny Dancer” (“Hold me closer, tiny pies!”). And at work, I wrote a marketing email about crafts in the style of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” So let’s top it off with this: