A dVerse Solstice Haibun

Photo by Cajeo Zhang on Unsplash (CC:00)

Woke to that loose sky, the sort where rain comes from, the lurch and coil of clouds caught on gusts, and the Acer (it’s shed its hyper green for a grown-up summer colour) stands unperturbed outside the window, a megalith, it’s a heelstone, and the rain falls like bouncing pennies, another month’s worth in a single day, and I remember when summer rain was warm-blooded, soft and gentle as a Sussex lilt, it was English, but this rain is castanets and steel toe boots, it’s a brute, and I saw on telly last night that Nevada is water-starved, drying up, and yet, here it rains, it rains, the longest rain of the year. A solstice rain.

Crows in the Acer
Gargoyles on a limb
Rain scrawls hieroglyphs

Written for dVerse Poets Solstice Haibun of 21 June/21 and Miz Quickly’s Four Specific Nouns, Photo by Cajeo Zhang on Unsplash (CC:00). Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021

12 responses to “A dVerse Solstice Haibun”

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