In This Sizzling Heat: A Haibun
In this sizzling heat we feel as though we’re descending into hell. The river has shrunk into a thin sliver thread. Our grapes are turning brown. They need water. I cannot tell you how eagerly we look for a cloud—one cloud!—to bear even a few drops of rain to the grapes. The neighbor boy flies his kite. It casts a shadow over the dying grapes. But I’ve had enough of watching for clouds that never come. I dig out our passports. “Come on,” I say to my beloved, “we’re going to Norway where it’s cool and it rains. Oh, wait! Americans aren’t welcome in Europe these days. What a clusterf*ck!”
I can’t remember
the last time I quenched my thirst
from a mountain stream.
More The Whirligig #274
More Writers’ Pantry #28 at Poets and Storytellers United
Posted on July 12, 2020, in 5-7-5, haibun, haiku, Poets & Storytellers United, The Whirligig and tagged brown, casts, cloud, cluster, descending, grapes, heat, kite, passports, river, tell, water. Bookmark the permalink. 9 Comments.