My first attempt at writing haibun. This week’s 2 Līgo Haībun prompts are:-
The sun [or] Childhood memory of summer camps
I picked the sun to write about.
Why does anyone like the sun? What is there to like about something that harshly oppresses the multitudes with waves of dehydrating, scorching light? Maybe it is poets’ fault for praising it so much – merely because it opens flowerbuds and serves as a figurative “next” to Winter’s unforgiving ice. Maybe it is Winter’s fault for cruelly leaving the destitute to freeze in nothing but their bones. Or maybe it is mine, for living in places so hot the novelty has worn off, as has my skin.