Stuck.
Birds fan themselves;
in heat they witness
my slow foundation –
so slow nothing builds.
For me, no road.
Even rodents quickly
scurry upon the ground,
finding nourishment,
strength.
Soil. With grubs,
manure, the dead –
not my only refuge,
but my only.
A hoped-for flowering,
a temporary beauty.
Beneath the heat –
before the cold –
a sign things might
be better.
Great haiku.. teaching is like learning, we teach what we have already learned and relay it to others.