When I walked past the Wall of Fame at The Rosine Barn Jamboree today, something caught my eye.
Do you see it? How about now?
No, it’s not a spider! Here, try this…
Yes! It’s a cricket!
When I saw it, my mind immediately went to a memory from decades ago.
One night—I suppose I was twelve or thirteen—I was brought along on a jugfishing trip to Rough River Lake. Dad (Kenny Autry), Sam Sandefur, Joe Johnston, and I slept under the stars.
Actually, we slept under a massive, rock ledge called Peter Cave. The night was cold, so after baiting the jugs, we built a fire and slept in sleeping bags.
Dad and I had to sleep together because we only had one. Wasn’t a problem, though, for I was a scrawny thing at that age.
What stands out in my memory is crickets! They were stuck to the rock ledge above us as we slept, or rather tried to sleep. The image was so strong I wrote a poem about it years later.
Crickets
Under the rock ledge of Peter Cave
Beside a fire beside my sleeping father
I lay on my back
Watching cave crickets stuck above us
Like empty cicada shells to the cold slab ceiling
They did not move an inch
And I beheld them as the astronomer to stars
Scrutinizing for a blinking out
A deathwatch of sorts
Too high to reach
I stretched my wonder up to them
And touched their mortality
Until, close to morning, waning like the fire
I saw one cricket quiver and budge
And I was content
To lie still, to stick to my own rock
Beside a fire beside my sleeping father
Under the rock ledge of Peter Cave
I wrote that poem in the early 90’s and ended up including it in my 2005 Monroe Country Volume One.
I’m wondering now if I will write a poem someday about this cricket I saw today on the Wall of Fame at The Rosine Barn Jamboree.
Only time will tell…
