We never saw the plotting and scheming,
Committees meeting under our noses.
Did they excavate under a vault,
To dig deep tunnels under the floor?
Or build a glider to fly from the table,
To run with freshly forged false papers?
Encouraged by the open door
In a bid for freedom, the cricket jumped
Out of the box, across the floor,
Across the carpet, its great escape.
But alas, its accent gave it away,
And rather than a McQueen moment,
An iconic final do or die,
I trapped it under a plastic cup…

Our son keeps crickets to feed his frogs and newts. Occasionally we spot them crossing the floor or climbing the wall…
(11.08.25)

© Ben Quant 2025