Haibun: Speak Spring
Isn’t it funny how spring can bring new life and fierceness as well? The baby bunny, fuzzy, still getting her legs under her. Then there’s the hard winds coming from the south with the rain that will bounce off the packed desert ground, causing a flash flood. In the lands that raised me, there’s always the chance of a heavy wet spring snow that melts beyond the river banks edges and equally as well as a chance of dandelions.
But we know spring incompletely. We don’t know spring perfectly, but in compare and contrast. We know spring inside the polls of a fuzzy bunny or a harsh spring wind or inside the floods of waters or dandelions. All we truly know of spring comes out of our compare and contrast to herself, summer, winter, or fall.
And so the words come out, as they have since the beginnings of our race's cognition, painting a picture of what is and what was. They are words that match and words that contrast. Incomplete knowledge, but we tell it all incompletely, yet as someone listens and learns, they become more complete. As you or I reflect, we become more complete. It’s in the telling that spring is known, imperfectly, but more completely. It’s in the telling that spring is made.
