Greystone Haiku


The tall grass dances

With the wind. Twisting, turning,

To the silent song


Fat bees hover near

Lazily move through the air

Please God, stay away


Clear skies and bright sun

Shine strongly up overhead

I must find shade soon


Sweat drips down my brow

Parched earth, dry dirt, like my mouth

This land is not wet


They run past, pure speed

A throng of bodies, sprinting.

Who will finish first?

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