A walk early this morning, a walk from night into day.  The road inky black beneath my feet to start, I rely on memory for the dips and bumps to step around along the way.

No music this morning. I wanted to hear the birds wake up — and I did.

But what I hadn’t reckoned on was catching the first crickets of the season. A chorus of them at Harvest Glen Court. They were chirping their little hearts out, glad to be alive on this muggy morning.

I listened to them, thrilled to them, took note.