Summer rages on his deathbed, fighting off the change in atmospheric pressure. Minute turns of an invisible weather dial, the sun beats mercilessly down on dust, tar, bricks and sweating scalps. Children delight in a deceivingly endless warmth, only the old feel the new chill in the breeze. Winter arrives unannounced, freezing the greenery till they drop to the ground, brown upon brown.
Cooling Summer’s rage
“Tis only hibernation,
not the death you fear.”
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Written for the dVerse prompt on March Madness.
This is my first attempt ever at a haibun. Very challenging, but rewarding too.
March is blazingly hot here in Botswana. But it is the month when it starts to shift into Winter. And so, it feels as if Summer is turning up the heat in defiance of the coming season. (So very Dylan Thomas) We hardly have an Autumn or Spring to speak of. Literally one day it is Summer, the next thing it is 3 degrees celsius at night.
I look forward to your feedback, so I can learn and improve my poetic craft.
Fatima Fakier 