The Insect Knows That There Is No Silent Night

Sorry I am no fancy poet
And sorry again, my name is not Moet.

God knows that there nothing like silent night
Because no night is silent.
Except the composer was deaf
And couldn’t hear the sound in the thicket
The chirps of the crawling cricket
Crawling on the leaf
As the nocturnal insects crawl about
The stridulating Bessbugs and beetles
As they go about their night hunts
Chirping in the moonlight.

The insect knows that there is no silent night.