Midsummer haibun

For dverse.

This spring of unstable weather, of political uncertainty, of loss of loved friends, coming storms and an unpredictable summer, we watch the sky with concern, our neighbours with consternation. Sun, that coaxes the growing things, sears and burns, rides to its zenith, and we wait with bated breath for the signs, a conquering king triumphant or a parent spreading joy with golden hands.

In ditch-cool grass grows
lush world where frogs laugh at storms
their distant rumble.