Plague Eight

With our cricket screech song
We burst brain and brunch on bran in
Our easy.
Going life to breath to cold in
Our fields.
Of gold we dream in endless plains
Bounded in a hop.
Skip and jump to the map
Of many crickets, in one locus.
Our legs eke, lips chew
And wings banquet the sun.
But.
As the blades dull and the ears fade
We beat, shrink and we bury.