While the Ants Doze in Their Nests

Faint scent of petrichor, faint
Scent of Russian sage, faint scent
Of diesel from the first truck
Delivering down the block
To the corner restaurant.
It begins to rain, a fresh
Rhythm against the crickets,

But the crickets don’t cease yet.
It will take more wet than this
To pause their urgent rhythms.
Silly poets, relentless
In their throbbing poetry
Industrial complex. Who
Works harder than grasshoppers?