I read a haiku today.
“ill-tempered I returned,
and then in the garden
the willow tree.”
There’s something about a willow tree, the way it extends a caring arm to hold you close. Protected, I read by its trunk as it swayed in the breeze.
It reached for the water, if nothing more but for a simple laugh, dipping its toes in with every sachay of the branches.
I took a garden walk today and that’s what summer is for.