The hills' greens
Are stilled in sunshine here.
Hooded crows
Give single calls,
Hidden in the trees below,
Where fungus grows
In singular blooms,
Undisturbed in quiet woods.
Elsewhere, the earth's depths erupt
In quakes and mudslides.
There are no smiles on the sea,
But storm surge tides
With killing rains descend,
And a hurricane
Visits the land of the free.