The Cricketary Tales of Jeffrey Jawser
The Locusts on Migration
Table of Contents
Translator with Jeffrey
The Locusts on Migration
Migration: Page Two
Migration: Page Three
Migration: Page Four
The Poet's Introduction
Intro: Page Two
Intro: Page Three
Intro: Page Four
Intro: Page Five
Intro: Page Six
Intro: Page Seven
Intro: Page Eight
Intro: Page Nine
Intro: Page Ten
Intro: Page Eleven
Intro: Page Twelve
Intro: Page Thirteen
The Bison's Tale
Bison: Page Two
Bison: Page Three
Bison: Page Four
The Serpent's Tale
Serpent: Page Two
Serpent: Page Three
Serpent: Page Four
Serpent: Page Five
The Salmon's Tale
Salmon: Page Two
Salmon: Page Three
A Whale of a Tale
Whale: Page Two
Whale: Page Three
Whale: Page Four
Whale: Page Five
Whale: Page Six
Whale: Page Seven
Whale: Page Eight
Whale: Page Nine
The Hummingbird's Tale
Hummingbird: Page Two
Hummingbird: Page Three
Hummingbird: Page Four
Hummingbird: Page Five
Hummingbird: Page Six
The Tern's Tale
Tern: Page Two
Tern: Page Three
Tern: Page Four
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When that April/May season of sweet rain
Our old world washes free of winter pain;
When every slip and shoot is big with sap,
And even blocks of wood wake from their nap.
When feath'ry breezes tickle beastly ears,
And hibernating bears rise from their biers.
When the spry, light-heeled Sun runs with the ram,
Frolicsome fishes leap the beaver's dam! -
When birds of every feather twit and tweep,
And fretful Nature noisily from sleep
Draws fresh green creatures forth from melting snow...
On migration animals long to go.
And fauna to fan out to far off lands,
To hallowed ground, and ancient sacred strands.

Jeffrey Jawser

Yes, I was reciting my verse. Just jumping in the meadow high on perfume of spring flowers when I bumped into a relative. He was a little locust and our talk was very short. But it changed my life beyond the power of poetry to express.

"We're leaving, we're flying, we're springing, we're winging...!" On and on he chattered. "Whoa... wait!" I had to use all six of my legs to hold him down and make him listen. "Where are you going?"

"On migration - seems like seventeen years since last time we did it. The locusts are going on migration, on migration..."

"But when?" I managed to get in.

"Tomorrow, as soon as the sun dries the dew from our wings."

That's all I learned, for he bounded away lickety-split like a rabbit. But of course I should have known. The whole countryside had been abuzz for weeks. Something big was going on. The air was electric with snap and intensity. Yes, here it is - the chance of a lifetime! I look very much like a locust. Why not join this migration? Think of the adventure.

And so it happened: through chance and destiny I flew off with billions of my locust cousins - I, an ordinary cricket.

Jeff Lookin' at Ya'