The cadence of water slapping stone
takes me deep inside my cocoon
where rhythm is a force of nature.
The cadence of the cricket’s chirp
folds into the walls, trails away
beneath the moon that hunts these hills.
The cadence of the blues harp,
the caress of the slide guitar
and the whole world falls down in front of me.
The cadence of this life
catches me up in its dervish rhythm
as time passes just beyond reach.
Poetry on the run 
Some really great sonics in this one, Ron–alliteration, consonance, assonance. It’s like the crickets have come to live within the poem. And that third stanza says it all.
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