Haibun for Lúnasa

For dverse.

First day of August is Lugh’s day, harvest day, the day of festivities and games in honour of Lugh’s foster mother, of Puck fairs, wild goats and bilberries. Balanced between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox it marks the high point of summer, the gathering of the crops, the slide into cooler weather, when plenty gives hope of surviving the winter.

The wheat was harvested here weeks ago and the hay. Crops ripen and the next is sown with little help from nature, and Lugh turns away from those who think they know better. I picked the first blackberries, a gift, but gifts are meagre in these days of plenty, and who listens to the growling of the sky?

summer scarce begun
ill-used by storm winds
the first leaves fall

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

33 thoughts on “Haibun for Lúnasa”

    1. Thank you, Frank 🙂 We’ve grown away from the meaning and the impositions of the seasons. Crop follows crop, growing faster, cropping more abundantly, disease free and full of pesticides. We’re going to be sorry.

  1. Harvest has not yet begun in my world, so you are a bit ahead. You describe it all beautifully, leaving us with the somber thought of presticides.

    1. Thank you. The smart farmers cut the hay really early, end of May, but ours missed the window of fine weather and had to cut it between storms beginning of the second week of July. It’s still cool, dull and damp. No spring and no summer yet…

      1. I used to but i’ve stopped getting blog notifications and forget to look. I’ve been out of prompting for months anyway. Busy writing. I’ll try to remember to look in.

  2. “and who listens to the growling in the sky?” indeed. An excellent haibun. You have your pen on the pulse, the vertex that is August.

  3. I love the menace in “who listens to the growling of the sky?” and also the complacency expressed about the gift of the blackberry. We are used to just taking and taking, aren’t we? And then the lovely, gentle waft of the haiku. Beautifully manicured.

    1. Thank you. Yes, we’ll keep on grabbing until there’s nothing left, and the most selfish of us all will have flown to pastures new, to destroy somewhere else in our unfortunate galaxy.

  4. The line about gifts being meagre in these days of plenty gets to the heart of modern life 😒

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