Nothing is too small not to be wondered about
“The cricket doesn’t wonder / if there’s a heaven / or, if there is, if there’s room for him. / It’s fall. Romance is over. Still, he sings. / If he can, he enters a house / through the tiniest crack under the door. / Then the house grows colder. / He sings slower and slower. / Then nothing. / This must mean something. I don’t know what. / But certainly it doesn’t mean / he hasn’t been an excellent cricket all his life.”