There’s a hurricane coming.
Before the rain begins,
I’ve cut some rudbeckia for you—
I found a few faint coneflowers, too.
but most everything else has passed.
I arranged them just now
in an old glass bottle
like the ones you collected.
The wind is picking up and
the birds are calling.
Every once in a great while, something emerges. I suppose it happens quite often. Every once in a great while, I notice.
bussokuseki 