August 23, 2025 by Dave Bonta The slow creak of a field cricket like a rusty winch for the sunrise. In the dying lilac I spot new mile-a-minute vines. Share on social media Click to share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Click to share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Click to share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads