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?